#and also when he actually outsmarts rick/thinks of things he doesn’t

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

It will never stop being funny to me in The Vat of Acid Episode how Morty can read Rick so well and knows exactly how to get to him.

“You trying as hard as you can to hurt me right now proves my point” he knows what Rick’s doing and calls him out on it.

And the way he provokes Rick in the most petty/childish way and he looks so smug because he knows it’ll work? Iconic. Their whole argument has such sibling energy, which I love even more seeing the new family dynamic in recent episodes where Rick fits in better with Summer and Morty than the adults.

As much as I love the way their dynamic is improving in S6 towards a healthier relationship, I have to admit I love how petty and dysfunctional they can be as well

[where-fading-princesses-live]

double standards

So I was watching this very interesting video last night...  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di_R6Md-L80

And around 6:43, he talks about the classic Mary Sue trope and how, if you have a male character in a work of fiction who is presented as equally perfect and free of flaw (in other words, a Gary Stu), the criticism is less harsh towards him, or in some cases, nearly nonexistent. Some might even say he's a total bad-ass and how dare you find fault in someone so impossibly cool? But if they're female? Good god, it's bad writing and anti-feminist. People seem to be generally way more accepting of male archetypes who fall under this trope than the likes of their female counterparts, hence double standards. You see this all the time in action flicks for instance. Arnold Schwarzenegger films, anyone? James Bond whomst??? But suddenly you have Rey who's arguably not better or worse than the likes of those characters, and yet, the general opinion of her is... kind of unfair. Understandable, nonetheless... I'm not a fan of her either but at the same time, I don't think we should judge her harsher than male characters who have similar treatments. Male characters like that shouldn't be excused. I'm not saying Stus are NEVER pointed out or criticized, but this guy does have a point. There seems to be a much more airtight scrutiny surrounding female characters of this nature and it might be due to internalized misogyny or ''something something quantum quantum...'' Granted, I don't think Stus/Sues should be a widely accepted overused theme regardless, and that should be blamed on poor writing rather than sexism. Whether male, female, both, neither and everything in-between, characters need to be well-written, well-developed, believable and nuanced and blah blah blah. I'm not really here to talk about that. What I want to point out is double standards. And yes, this is sexism.

Take Rick and Morty for example. I'm not going to get too deep into it, but the fandom seems to praise the shit out of Rick who can easily be labelled a Stu because as we're constantly reminded, he's supposedly the ''smartest man in the universe''. Now, when you create a character who is a self-professed genius and placed on a pedestal by the writers, it can definitely come off Stu-ish. It's not that Rick unrealistically lacks flaws... no, this man is LOADED with flaws, but the fact that he's a literal badass who can get out of almost any sticky situation... well, like I said, there's more to his character than that and I'm not going to get into it, but Rick rarely, if ever, fails. Sometimes there's moments of vulnerability and the fact that he keeps trying to change but just slips back into his old ways, that makes him much more 3-dimensional than a Stu... but you know, despite his narcissism, his sarcasm, his alcoholism and mistreatment of his family and his incapability of maintaining healthy long-term relationships, he still has a limitless ability to create, a superior intelligence level even when compared to higher lifeforms on other planets, enabling him to outsmart entire government organizations and civilizations spanning galaxies, well... you can see where I'm going with this. There's no person on this planet like that who exists irl, even among the smartest of history's greatest men. Yes, it's a cartoon, it's meant to be far-fetched. Yes, it's sci-fi so we're expected to suspend our disbelief. Yes, there's a reason for it. Yes, it drives the core of the story. But even if there's times where it seems Rick will definitely fail, he never truly has an ALL IS LOST MOMENT because the writers conveniently write him out of most of his troubles, because the series has to keep going (obviously). Basically, I never feel a real sense of danger when Rick is in trouble because I know he'll get out alive (if not, there's infinite amount of Ricks and infinite amount of realities to replace him-- not to mention he can replace his family members as many times as he fucks up which became the show's laziest overused point in my opinion). Rick's not a bad character. Far from it. That's not what bothers me.

What bothers me is his daughter, Beth. Okay, no, she doesn't specifically bother me. The way the fandom sees her bothers me. Now Beth is undoubtedly cut from the same cloth. You know what they say, like father like daughter. And yet... the fandom fails to recognize her as a potentially great character, just as equally flawed and brilliant minded as Rick. She's a genius horse surgeon in a failing marriage. (I will go out on a limb and say she's more well written than Rick *ducks from flying tomatoes*.) I mean, her story is literally almost the same as her father's, her flaws are just as realistic--in fact, she's probably more realistic because she's not the ''smartest so and so of the godforsaken universe'' which is just as bad as annoyingly cringey The Chosen One trope. She's just Beth. A terribly smart woman with abandonment issues and trust issues and all other kinds of issues, but you can't blame her given her upbringing. By no means perfect or good at everything she does. Or loved (or hated) by everyone or hailed a genius by the entire flipping universe. You can't even call her a Sue. Yet some of the fandom chooses to label her a b*tch for whatever reason... even though her characterization is near identical to D*ck, er I mean Rick (e.g. she drinks just as much when she hits an all time low). She's just as awful with just as many fuck ups yet she's more sympathetic due to the way Rick raised her (or didn't raise her)... yet there's a double standard because somehow, because she's a female, she's a worse character than Rick, who's a male and apparently awesome (brownie points because he's one of the the two titular characters so you *can't* hate him, it's against the law). If Beth were Rick's son instead of his daughter, I wonder if the general opinion would be the same or not. If Rick were a woman.... he would be Rey, now would he? Don't deny it.

Then there's Ed Edd n' Eddy. As much as I love praising the hell out of this show, I also like to crap on it. There's no shame in pointing out flaws in your faves. But this isn't so much the flaw in the actual show and the actual writing, but again, I'm taking a jab at the fandom and how they perceive male characters v. female characters.

Sarah. Sarah is almost exactly like the female Eddy. She's little and bratty and loud af. She's probably the most hated character on the show (even Jimmy and Kevin are more liked than she is). I used to not like Sarah either but I never really asked myself WHY. When I compared her to Eddy, I realized that they're literally, almost the same character and I have no real reason to hate her (yeah yeah a lot of the cul-de-sac kids share eerily similar traits to the Eds and it was no accident; it makes you wonder why the kids hate the Eds so much if they ostracize them for the very same quirks they have, and it's not just the scams--it's because kids at this age are terribly insecure about themselves and tend to make fun of more vulnerable others who share their flaws to make themselves feel better. I was bullied in middle school for acne by... wait for it.... kids who had acne. GASP. Imagine that. So my point is, we often despise traits in others we despise in ourselves, not to mention we don't perceive ourselves the way others perceive us, hence, the Looking Glass Self theory. Basically, EEnE is deeper than it appears on the surface, and I've analyzed this before during those EEnE Appreciation Month things, so I won't bother repeating myself, but that's the basic idea in a nutshell.)

Ahem, before I get off on a further tangent, let me reiterate my main point. Sarah IS Eddy. No, not really, but yes, kinda really. Her voice can be irritating and grates on your nerves at times, she's bossy and controlling of her friends (I honestly love her friendship with Jimmy, and how they both defy stereotypical gender norms, and how protective she is of him, but there's times where she pushes his buttons), and though she doesn't hold Jimmy back from finding his own independence apart from her the way Eddy sometimes does to Ed and Edd who he treats them more as cronies in the first season (for instance, Sarah doesn't raise objection to Jimmy joining the Urban Rangers and finding his own identity and making other friends besides her, I mean they don't have to be glued to the hip and she damn well knows that), and yet... the way she treats Ed... well... even if Eddy stands up for Ed against Sarah and grows increasingly annoyed with the way she walks all over him... Eddy ain't much better, pumpkins. DON'T ACT LIKE HE'S BETTER THAN HER. Sure, male characters *always* get excused for this kind of behavior, but if it's a girl, she's automatically a mega beyotch with no redeeming qualities. If she's a b, he's a b, and they both have potential to redeem their flaws.  They should be treated equally.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Eddy. He's one of my favorite characters. OPE. And there's the tea.

Most people LOVE Eddy (not everybody, and if you don't, that's fine; you don't even have to like Sarah, but I have a case). Despite the fact that he's bossy, sarcastic, rude, selfish, self-absorbed, over confident, flamboyant, vain, screams with a voice that makes your ears bleed.... well, gee, didn't I just describe Sarah? Sarah loves make-up clothes and hair just as much as Eddy loves speedos and deodorant and cheap shampoo and dressing to the nines for Jonny's Arbor Day Party. Hell, Sarah had a complete meltdown because she lost her freakin' earring! Eddy flipped the fuck out when Ed lost his porno mags. THEY'RE. THE. SAME. FUCKING. PERSON. (and it's why they butt heads but that's a topic for another day, because you know, you can't fight fire with fire... you can argue the same for Eddy and Kevin)

Yet, the fandom HATES Sarah and LOVES Eddy. Probably not cuz she's female, but aside from the Kankers, the girls (and Jimmy, poor Jimmy) seem to receive harsher judgment towards them as characters by fans, even if they have similar traits to the boys. I'm sure it's because Sarah isn't as well written or developed a character as Eddy (who's a main cast member, actually the driving force of the show, the primary lead) BUT that's not to say Sarah doesn't have her moments of vulnerability or moments of total bad-assery that makes her.... well... interesting  if given the chance. (In BPS, she beats the living shit out of the Kankers and devises a plan for her and Jimmy to escape their enslavement, one of my all-time favorite scenes in the entire movie; not to mention she beats the crap out of EVERYONE on the show and it's usually, not always, well-deserved but it's entertaining nonetheless: cat fights with Nazz, even beating up Rolf who's twice her size, etc.). The fact that everyone is afraid of this little girl??? (maybe except Kevin). I mean, this chick is fearless, and yet, she still has moments of weakness. That's 3-dimensional if you ask me. She's more than just the bratty little sister. I didn't used to like her, but after studying her more, I've come to appreciate her. There's nothing about her that makes her an inherently ''bad'' female character. She plays a role, as do they all, and she plays the role perfectly.

Last but not least: Nazz. Everyone's favorite (I'm kidding). I don't know if the fandom hates Sarah or Nazz more. I can understand the hate towards Sarah, but Nazz seems even less just. Nazz is like one of the nicest people on the show and never really does anything to warrant the hate (until the infamous flanderized Season 5-- don't judge me, I love S5 regardless)... but even then she's still nice, if a bit artificially so. I mean, she becomes a bit of a Mean Girl (they all kinda do; it must be how the clique school environment changes a person), but she still goes out of her way to be inclusive towards everyone (even if she can be spotted in the background laughing at the Eds along with the others at times, but they're ALL guilty of this... ya'll out here lovin' on Rolf or Jonny or whatever, and pretending like they're saints, but they laugh at our precious Ed boys too. Also, precious Ed boys are not complete angels either and sometimes they need a good ass whooping or two. I mean, they're just kids. Kids are assholes). She's not a bad person though; she roots for all the contestants during the Spelling Bee. She personally appoints Ed to be the mascot of the football team. I can go on and on. She's just nice. Maybe that's why fans hate her. Because nice is boring. Nice is... personality-less. I don't think Nazz has as much eccentricity as the other characters, obviously, but she, too, has her moments (she yodels, for starters). She's not entirely lacking in personality. Sure, she may have as much personality as a board of wood (actually, I take that back, Plank has MORE personality than her XD) buuuut.... Idk, I like Nazz. I didn't at first either. But even if it irks me a bit that she's reduced down to the unattainable love interest and not much else, she, too, isn't an inherently ''bad'' female character. She has the least development of all the cast members, but she fills her role effectively. Without her, the show would feel like it's missing something. Even if she doesn't appear as often.

What bothers me the most is that she plays the same part as Kevin, only female. Kevin's the quintessential jock/bully popular leader of the kids, the King of the Cul-de-sac if you will (self-appointed or otherwise, just don't tell Eddy I told you). Nazz is like his Homecoming Queen, even if they're not an official couple (they spend the whole series as a ''will they or won't they Ross and Rachel'') and though not the leader of the kids collectively, she does sometimes lead the girls (or really, Sarah and Jimmy), while Kevin leads the boys (Jonny and Rolf, excluding the Eds). AND YET Kevin, though sometimes hated by fans, isn't nearly *as* hated as Nazz. Yet, he has as much personality as her (sorry, I love you, Kev). I mean, THEY'RE. ALMOST. THE. SAME. CHARACTER. Good looking, sporty, popular... He's also the least developed character of the male cast. Plank has more development than him and that's kinda sad... y'know... getting beat by a board of wood. (But Plank comes alive through Jonny, so basically Jonny is split into two separate characters; Plank reveals aspects of Jonny that he won't reveal to us, and vice versa. I can talk about Jonny all day, but let's not, because this is about Nazz.) I mean, again, Nazz and Kevin both have their moments of vulnerability and it's not like they're NEVER interesting; I beg to differ. Kevin, anyway, has two great episodes that revolve directly around his insecurities and anxieties and deep-seated fears, some deep shit I wish we got to see with Nazz. But instead we got BPS and it was hands-down the best character development we ever saw from her in the entire show's run. It's sad it had to be the end, because if they gave us more BPS Nazz throughout the series, she would have been a well rounded 3-d character.

Nazz is angry AF in BPS and I live for angry Nazz. We can kind of feel for her here because Kevin is such a dunce. She's finally reciprocating his feelings and he decides to turn the other way.... for his goddamn inanimate bike. It's something Jonny would do, but Kev always loved that bike... I guess more than Nazz, and it's one of the greatest love triangles ever. Phantom of the Opera don't interact. Ahem. My point is, Nazz finally displays more personality here-- like actual fucking emotion beyond just being nice and pretty (sure, we've seen her get angry sometimes, or freaked out other times, but never like this). Buuuuuut the fandom sees otherwise. They hated Nazz even MORE after this, despite that.... the male characters in BPS, like Rolf who punches through a tree and Edd and Eddy who go at it all piss and vinegar in an actual fist fight, are angry fucking men, and they're allowed to be angry and not Nazz because...? They have more testosterone and she doesn't? Because penises are more justified than vaginas? Oops, no, sorry, women can only be angry when they're on their periods, my bad. I mean, everybody's out in this freezing cold swamp, having a break down, at their wit's end, reaching their ''all is lost'' moment... yet, Rolf and the Eds are allowed to vent their frustrations on each other or on the surrounding environment. But not Nazz. No, Nazz is being a b*tch because.... Kevin's paying more attention to a non-living machine than to her. And he sat flat on his skinny ass and didn't help her when she needed him the most. And she didn't have to tag along with him but she did. She didn't have to put up with his cold aloofness but she did. And even if she was trying to catch his attention and flirt with him at inappropriate times she wasn't entirely useless. It was HER idea to find Eddy's brother. If she hadn't suggested it, he'd still be riding around in circles chasing his shadow. Yeah, okay, she's a total b*tch.

God forbid women have emotions. God forbid women cry or get frustrated. Then they're b*tches. But if they're pretty and nice and perfect and popular, they're Sues. Yet, male characters with the same traits.... get lighter sentences. No one even bats an eye. Boys will be boys am I right?

I can go on but yeah, don't say double standards are total BS. In this essay I will

[alextriestowritestuff]

Blood Of Olympus Read W/ Me

This was the worst book of the series by far. I almost didn’t finish it. I think my thoughts are going to be rather short but they’ll still be below the cut for spoiler reasons. There will also be Trials of Apollo spoilers so I highly suggest not reading this if you haven’t caught up with those books! Let’s get into it.

I’d like the start by saying what I like: Nico/Reyna POV. I loved their relationship (which I didn’t see coming at all) it was very big sis-little bro vibes. I love that Nico finally found a place and his budding relationship with Will. What’s funny is though I knew Will would be his love interest (You can’t avoid them in fanfic at all) I thought he’d be more like super sunshine/super happy and that would contrast with Nico’s emo nature. But he was just chill and was like Nico, stop being a dumbass, we’re friends. I think fanfic gave me a different impression of what he’d be like (Granted I never read the fics, just summaries) and I was surprised that he was not like that. It’s not bad or good, just pointing it out. 

Oh and Nico telling Percy he liked him and Percy just being like ‘say what?’ I didn’t expect Nico to actually fess up to that one but Percy’s reaction was gold. 

The best moment in this book is Reyna taking down Orion by herself. She was that BITCH. Correct me if I’m wrong but the only other person who defeated a giant by themselves was Percy right? In the Battle of Labyrinth when he fights Antaeus? I think Antaeus was a half-giant though because Percy, a demigod, managed to kill him without the help of a god. Anyway, Reyna was everything in that scene. Oh I lied, he took down Polybotes too. They’d be unstoppable together (though I love Percabeth). She was about to sacrifice herself too!! What a queen. I respect the crap out of her. UM Jason you really picked the wrong girl lmao. 

I appreciated the Thalia cameo (because again, I didn’t re-read the Lost Hero so I haven’t seen her since the last time I read the PJO series) and the mention of Zoe. I hope Kenzie didn’t really die though, I liked her. 

And that’s all the good I have to say about it. Now for the bad...so much bad.

So after thinking about it, I realize that what makes HoO so different from its predecessor series is that there’s no consequences. The closest we got to consequences was Annabeth and Percy falling into Tartarus because they weren’t saved in time. No one important (protagonist/good guys side) died. Leo was resurrected (And I looked it up and found out that he came to Camp in the Trials of Apollo series so everyone knows he’s alive). Even for the Tartarus one, we didn’t even get a PTSD arc. It would’ve been helpful to have Percy or Annabeth’s POV in this book to wrap up that subplot. Instead we get two lines about their time in Tartarus and when Percy brings it up, Annabeth tells him not to mention it. So no PTSD arc. Got it. But we can just casually mention that Octavian committed suicide (which I don’t care for that ending at all).  Right.

The HoO books are boring because there’s no consequences. I never felt true fear apart from Percy/Annabeth being in Tartarus. In the Last Olympian, mortals were put to sleep, Annabeth was gravely injured, Silena and Beckendorf died. Luke and Ethan died. There was no magical save for them. Blood of Olympus had NO stakes, coupled with a weak, slightly developed new characters made it a bad series imo. It also doesn’t deliver on the questions posed in the book.

Hazel’s curse is still active, no descendant of Neptune has taken it away. I read the wiki summary for every book of the Trials of Apollo (The last one isn’t out yet) and there’s no mention of her curse being lifted. I think Frank’s stick is resolved imo being that it’s safe in the fireproof pouch but for some readers, they don’t think that’s resolved. Kym told Percy he’d have to face his fatal flaw. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t feel as though he did. Percy also never helped Leo find Calypso but Ig that’s null because he never got the chance to. Also is Black Jack, Frank’s grandmother, Hylla okay? Orion said Hylla got away but I was hoping for another cameo. 

Let’s talk about the villains/the entire quest of the Seven. The quest was boring, Nico/Reyna/Hedge’s quest was 100x more interesting and they were transporting a freaking statue. The quest of the Seven was fight this minor god/villain who is working for Gaea who promised them something (Even Jason has a line where he makes fun of this), outsmart/fight them, get to Athens where all the monsters are. Percy and Annabeth’s blood awakens Gaea. The gods come down which makes me angry because most of them weren’t helpful throughout the series. Poseidon wasn’t in this series at all. He didn’t even send a symbol or talk to his son who went missing. I’m pissed that the battle against Gaea wasn’t even in Athens! I’m pissed that they got slapped to New York, like what? The gods really couldn’t poof them back there, they gave some excuse but it was still bs. But I guess Rick needed Argo II to get back to NY so Leo can turn festus back into a dragon. But anyway, the gods come down, the demigods work with to defeat the giants in less than two pages. The giants that were poised as a massive threat for four books straight. Defeated in mere minutes. We don’t even get a cool battle description, they just hack and slash at them and they’re dead. Huh? 

Percy, Annabeth, Hazel, and Frank were reduced to background characters and I understand they don’t have a POV but I never felt that characters who didn’t have a POV in a certain book were ever forgotten/not utilized. They didn’t really get to do anything. 

We also don’t really see the Roman and Greek gods all that much. I know they’re the same people, different Greek and Roman personalities. But like I thought their Roman side could be seen a bit more but they were having difficulty maintain one persona throughout the whole series. I can tell you what the Greek gods are like and how they interact w/ each other based on the throne room scenes/anytime they help demigods in PJO/HoO. But Roman gods as whole? I can’t tell you how they even interact with each other. 

But wait, it gets worse. There’s not even a formal recognition thing like there was at the end of the Last Olympian (where Percy is offered godhood and Annabeth is given position of architect) there’s a little meeting with the gods and the Seven in which Jason is like give minor gods shrine and the gods aren’t really all that interested in what he has to say. There’s no thank you demigods. No, thanks Annabeth and Percy for literally going through Tartarus and Hazel for sacrificing yourself at 13 back in the 1940s. And the rest of them sacrificed something too. Like damn, no wonder why Luke was always like the gods don’t care about their kids. 

Gaea was built up to be a big bad (honestly not really, she talked trash the entire time/sent people to do her work) and the woman is easily overpowered by the three demigods. She’s not even awake for 20 minutes and she goes down. WHAT?? 

Overall, it was anti-climatic and totally did a 180 on everything else established in this series-the fact that Gaea was such a major foe and turned out not to be (that SEVEN demigods had to take her down, not just 1 like Percy’s prophecy) and the giants were to be feared too but they get taken down. At 200 pages in, I dead ass wanted to DNF, it was so boring. I gave it a one star because although the good I mentioned was really great, it doesn’t save the book. So for me, this series had every book be 3 stars or under except House of Hades. 5 books and I only really was able to like one and get through it easily and it still had issues. Like what?

Lastly, I want to touch on Jason. I still think he’s bland though I appreciated him giving Nico a hug at the end there. Again from ToA/being spoiled over the years, I learned that Jason died and I won’t be reading ToA but I read the summary of the book where he died and um, wow. I don’t feel anything for his death but the fact that he and Piper broke up sent me into a laughing/anger rage. Laughing because they really said ‘I love you’ at the end of BoO and they didn’t even make it a year lmao. And the fact that PIPER, miss always insecure in her relationship with him, McLean broke up with HIM. WOOOOOW. But it made mad because I listened to her complain/fawn over Jason for 4 freaking books (not counting tSoN) for NO REASON cuz they ended up breaking up. Overall, I appreciated what Jason, Hazel, Frank, and Piper did in the HoO series because they were helpful but I couldn’t connect with their characters. I’ll admit that in BoO we got a little bit more bonding between characters which is what I asked for in my last read with me and I like the Percy/Jason scene underwater and Piper/Annabeth scene from the beginning. I do think some relationships were summarized when they could’ve been shown--i.e. Annabeth/Reyna/Piper friendship but they have potential. 

The bonding was good, it was just too late. It should’ve happened in MoA/HoH as well. Random but I also hate how Leo was treated (esp. by Jason and Piper) throughout the series and I’m glad he got out of that mess. He was reduced to a deus ex mechanic and that wasn’t cool. The Seven wouldn’t have been able to do this quest without him. 

Sooo I guess this is it. I don’t think I’m going to read another Rick Riordan book again unless I hear something drastic happens to Percy or Annabeth/Any of the PJO characters and Reyna. I’m strongly reconsidering removing him as my fav author. I still love the PJO series but this one was not it. I don’t know if Rick was on a tight deadline for these HoO books but it was just poorly executed. I don’t regret reading the series, I think reading HoH was worth all the time I spent reading this series. I wish I had just read a summary of tSoN and MoA, especially because I already read them years ago and knew I wasn’t into them from my first read. I wasted my own time by doing that. So if I had done that I would’ve gotten to just read HoH and then only be disappointed by BoO as opposed to three books. It is what it is. It’s nice to be in the loop because I always see these things about HoO characters and spoilers so now I know how it went down. 

But that’s it guys, thank you for reading this entire thread and the ones before it. I have a lot of opinions and I don’t think I’m in the minority by saying I didn’t like this series overall. I will get back to my writeblr content and I will leave you guys with my final ratings for the series (My rating system may seem generous compared to my read with me thoughts but I personally don’t give less than 3 stars to books that plot wise made sense. It may not be the most compelling plot or have the best characters but if it made coherent sense, I have to give it at least a 3.) :

The Lost Hero: This score is based off of my original reading in 2012/2013 and my thoughts on the main characters in that book, I give this a 3/5 stars

The Son of Neptune: 3/5

The Mark of Athena: 2/5

The House of Hades: 4.5/5

The Blood of Olympus: 2/5 

Worst book of the series: Mark of Athena (Blood Olympus is a close tie but the Nico/Reyna really saves it from this spot) and best book- House of Hades. 

[thejudgingtrash]

I love to see someone else acknowledging that Annabeth is a jackass,but still appreciating her character(and even saying that it makes her great). I mean,she's a traumatized immature teen girl with a ton of issues and a huge ego. Even Percy finds her difficult and tiresome at times. But it doesn't detract from her good traits(intelligence, ambition, she can be quite compassionate at times).

Y E S

Say it with me y’all:

ANNABETH CHASE IS A MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE!

AND WE LOOOOOOOVE HER FOR THAT!

The minute Tumblr hits me up with my dose of pjo posts I’m like-

DID WE ACTUALLY READ THE SAME FUCKING BOOKS?!

I’m seeing cuddly smushy tushy Annabeth posts from everyone (big and small pjo blogs) and- what?

This is the type of shit you people willingly focus on??? Fanon Annabeth is straight up trash. She has way more to offer than this sappy shit. Canon Annabeth Chase is one mean bitch.

- She is terribly judgmental (right up my alley, look at my goddamn username). Uhh Tyson everyone? Yes. The books are made for children and the message was obviously “never judge a book by its cover” and she had a terrible traumatizing come up. But this sentiment stays throughout the books while she’s maturing and getting older. This trait stays. What did Rachel, her blue brush and her fucking A-cups do to you, Chase? As if she’d every had a chance with our mans Percy! Not gonna lie, we love a jealous queen!

- She is egotistical af, she inserts herself in all types of situations. I wanted to physically tear Annabeth apart in the PJO series! (WE STAN) She knows when and what she wants!

- She is downright hotheaded and punches Percy a couple of time?? (and no, that fucking Judo flip for something that wasn’t his goddamn fault isn’t cute. Wtf is wrong with you people)

- She downplays her own boyfriends intelligence despite all of the outsmarting shit he spontaneously does??? Wowza. That hurts.

- That also correlates with this one: don’t forget her fatal flaw? Bitch thinks the is the shit! Better than everyone and anything! Ego stroking, we love it!

BUT

- She is smart (although I wish Riordan would’ve branched out with the Athena kids apart from making them the SmArT oNeS. They could have non-op powers). She clearly criticizes faulty education systems!

- She is passionate! (when it comes to her designs for example. Her talking about her dreams in book 2 is way too cute)

- She shows compassion with others once she's opened up to them.

- And she loves her man. And we love her for that. She took a fucking knife for our homeboy!

- And she gets better! Slowly like it should be for proper development.

(I could go on with pros/cons on both sides but I’m too lazy for this. And I’m pretty sure some major blog already did some analysis on her). Annabeth is a multidimensional character with many, many, many facets. Her curling up in Percy’s lap or whatever doesn’t come close with this. I’m still flabbergasted.

I get it. As soon as we read stuff we process it and automatically turn it into fanon in our heads. We think about what could’ve happened, accidentally change looks, continue the storyline how we’d love to see things end. Fan fiction and fan art exist for a reason, people. I mean in my head canons and unfinished PJO fan fics the actual heroes of myths like Theseus, Orion, Odysseus, etc. are alive and thriving and doing stuff. But that shouldn’t erase the actual base. Canon Annabeth is the way to go people!

The PJO series had everything. Thoughtfulness, a good and carefully structured plot (although everything is basically ripped-off fan fiction based on the old myths so tweaking/re-writing pre-existing stuff ain’t that hard), proper world building, great characters. Rick Riordan’s own sorry ass could never ever do that again. I know that, you know that and deep down he knows that as well. I’m sorry Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo but your wanky asses could never!

Damn... We are still loving these characters and talking about them AFTER 15 GODDAMN YEARS!

That shows that the series is a great read. And oh yeah...

ANNABETH CHASE IS A FUCKING BITCH IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE! And also while we’re at it...

PERCY IS A FUCKING PERSON OF COLOR AND ANNABETH IS WHITE! GET IT FUCKING RIGHT, PEOPLE!

And that has been my TED talk. And now shred me with your opinions, people!

[twdmusicboxmystery]

How Emily’s Song Fits into TD Symbolism

Good morning! Okay, so this is something we’ve been keeping an eye on for a while. It’s something @wdway​ first picked up on, and we’ve seen it frequently this season. I’ve been hesitant to actually post about it because we knew so little. I usually try to watch something for a while and gather more info before I post about it, and that was definitely true here. 

Even now, this theory is going to be very sparse, but it’s something I know you guys will like, especially since they used Emily’s song in the show last week. I have lots of people asking me about symbols in the song and how it’s connected (other than the obvious of promoting Emily, which the show is suddenly doing a LOT of; hint, hint 😉)

I’ll talk about this in three parts: Theme, Embodiment, and Proverb.

Theme:

We’ve started to notice a theme in which hearing, seeing, and speaking are all mentioned together It’s been happening a lot this season. And in truth, I think it’s been happening for many seasons (didn’t just start this season) but because we weren’t looking for it, we never saw it. I’ll explain why I think that in a minute.

We think it’s related to the “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” proverb.

Let me give you an example. In 10x04, Michonne and Judith talked on their journey to Hilltop. Judith said she could be an extra pair of EYES and EARS if Michonne wanted to confide in her. At the end of the convo, she asked another question, which Michonne didn’t answer. Judith said Michonne was thinking on it. So she made the classic motion of zipping her lips shut.

So you see what I mean? Eyes, ears, and then no speaking. And we’ve seen these things randomly mentioned in dialogue or shown in some way a lot lately.

The reason I think they may have been around for a long time is because of these pictures:

One was taken during S3, the other during S4, if I remember correctly, and the actors never explained what they were doing or why the took the pictures in these poses. It comes across as they just goofing around on set.

I’ve always personally believed that, even if they don’t ever talk about it, the actors probably know at least something of the symbolism involved. Maybe they don’t know ever nuance of every single thing they film, but we know they’re very invested in their characters and their character arcs, so I can’t imagine they don’t ask questions about some of the random (symbolic) things that get put into the show. So I think they, at least the main characters, actually probably know more about this than they let on.

A good example would be 6x03. Remember Daryl went back to help Rick and then kind of randomly just went back to Sasha and Abraha. A LOT of people found his behavior kind of odd in that episode, and sometime afterward, a fan asked Norman about it. 

He kind of hemmed and hawed and basically said Daryl didn’t go back just for Rick. There was more to it than that and it would make sense later. It never REALLY did. I think that was a foreshadowing sequence and Norman knew that, but wasn’t allowed to talk about it. 

And these pictures (above) are good evidence of it as well. The actors knew this theme was present in the show, and they took a picture to illustrate it.

Embodiment:

So, the next thing we’ve considered is that perhaps this theme showing up so strongly last season and this season has everything to do with Connie and Kelly’s characters and the fact that they’re deaf. (Hear no evil.)

In fact, in 10x04, when the male Whisperer was skinning a walker, Alpha told him to be careful, because the ears are the trickiest part. And that was the same episode where we saw Kelly struggling with her hearing loss in a big way.

But let me back up. Before we knew Kelly was losing her hearing, which we only learned in 10x01, we were really just considering Connie. We were thinking that she could represent hear no evil and speak no evil, because she doesn’t do either (hear or speak, I mean). But she definitely doesn’t represent “see no evil,” because her eyesight is actually stellar due to her lack of hearing.

But.

We’ve long wondered if Beth will have vision problems when she returns. Especially given the “daddy always said bad moonshine can make you go blind” line in Still.

But seeing 10x04 with Kelly’s hearing loss opening sequence made me realize something: I think she’s hear no evil. Connie certainly qualifies since she can’t hear either, but we’re actually watching Kelly lose her hearing. Plus, she can’t really be “speak no evil” because we’ve heard her speak a lot. Connie is the only one whose voice (verbally anyway) we’ve never heard.

So I think Connie is speak no evil, Kelly is hear no evil, and Beth will be see no evil. Which is just more evidence that something about Connie and Kelly will either lead to Beth or cross with her arc in some way.

The Proverb:

Now let’s talk about Emily’s song.

The phrase “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil” originates from a Chinese proverb that has to do with three monkeys, each of which represents one of the senses. If you trace it back, it shows up more recently in Japan, but probably originated in China. But the common thread is that it’s a Buddhist proverb.

In 10x04, we saw these little colored flags around Kelly during her opening sequence. I merely commented on the colors, but @frangipanilove​ made the comment that they looked a lot like Tibetan prayer flags. Not knowing much about such things, I googled.

Sure enough, these really do look like (very tattered) Tibetan prayer flags. I guess you often see them strung along paths in the Himalayas. They’re meant to bestow blessings on the countryside and on travelers, and they’re definitely a Buddhist tradition.

So we have the China connection (Tibet), the Buddha connection, and the more general religion/prayer connection.

I would also encourage you to google Buddhism and turtle, because the Buddhist tradition of turtles is very interesting. I don’t think it means any one particular thing, and I did fairly minimal research, but you often see the turtle being wise, surviving by outsmarting those trying to kill it, and sometimes saving others. 

Sometimes it’s a symbol of time itself (if there are any Stephen King fans reading this, think about the end of IT—the book—because I’m fairly sure he took that from the Buddhist tradition of turtles). 

Check out THIS LINK where it’s also associated with survival, carrying the world on its back, and even home.

So here’s how I’m bringing this all together. When Emily’s song came out, even when I first heard the title, I was a bit reluctant to read into it. Obviously there’s the turtle thing, which has long been a Bethyl symbol, but I wasn’t sure what to do with the monkey, and you guys know I’m always cautious trying to read into things outside the show.

This theory has formed very quickly and didn’t truly come together for me like this until we saw the Tibetan prayer flags and then heard Emily’s song in the show.

Bottom line: We think Beth is part of the “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil” theme. Her song is called the turtle and the monkey. She’s the turtle, and the monkey also points to the proverb. And her song was featured in the show last week.

Between that, all the filming they’re doing at the Grady location, all the publicity the show is giving Emily (she’s suddenly the subject of articles, clickbait sites, and is going to be on the TWD podcast soon) and even that Emily is posting interesting poems and lyrics, one of which mentions “the walking dead,” 

(Thanks to Angela T.B. on Facebook for that 💖) I’m feeling all tingly. I think she’s VERY close.

Going into episode 6, we think there will be a lot of Consumed parallels, so watch out for those.

I also think the three monkeys could double as another example of the St. Nicholas/pickle story, in which three resurrection take place. (Pretty sure I’ve said this before, but I think the three resurrections will be Beth, Rick, and Zeke. Three people who are presumed dead but will all return, alive.)

So yeah. I’m kind of rambling now, so I’ll stop. But super-exciting stuff going on lately! Makes me happy. 😃

[thenuclearweaselhaslanded]

H-hey, Morty, We’re Running the *Belch* Asylum, Morty!

So, I want to talk about a comic I picked up a while back, and was recently reminded of. It was Rick and Morty Presents #1, retelling the story of Pickle Rick.

Now, I think that Rick and Morty is frequently a decently clever show. It’s got its flaws, but the core idea is solid and the execution is often great. But I think we can agree that it has some of the most godawful fedora-wearing fans online. 

One of the core themes of the show is that Rick is a terrible person, and he’s constantly fucking up his own life. He’s brilliant, but he can’t fix his own damned problems because he refuses to admit that they exist. He’s constantly running circles around any opposition he meets. If a character gets the better of him, he generally one-ups them by the end of the episode (and likely kills them). But he’s such an emotionally stunted manchild that he’s ruining not just his own life, but the lives of everyone around him. Sure, other characters are also flawed, but it’s Rick’s flaws that destroy everything around him and the rest of the main cast.

Okay, maybe Jerry and Beth’s marriage was a lost cause to start with, but basically everything else is his fault.

A crap ton of Rick and Morty fans don’t get this. They think of Rick as a badass genius who’s the only sane man in a world of idiots. And they want to think of themselves as the same, or at least that’s what they aspire to be. They see his flaws, his selfishness and arrogance, as signs of his Übermensch status. Why should he care about mere mortals when he’s almost a god? Why should he concede anyone else might have a point when he’s the smartest guy in the room? Why, he’s a scientist! A STEMlord! What can anyone else possibly tell him?

But that’s ultimately a problem with the fans, not the show itself. While the show likes to show off Rick outsmarting and outfighting other characters, it’s pretty consistent that he is not happy. None of what he does really brings him any satisfaction. The closest he gets is when he goes against his normal instincts and gets closer to his family. And he generally undoes it as soon as possible. He sends himself off to prison to save his family, but then as soon as he busts out (and destroys the political body that captured him), he terrorizes Morty and says that he doesn’t actually give a fuck about any of them and it was all about some stupid dipping sauce. He pushes anything away that he sees might make him even the slightest bit vulnerable.

Rick’s aware that he’s making himself unhappy, but as he sees it, it’s because he’s just too damned smart for all the things normal people find happy. He can’t find other people valuable, or treat emotions as valid, even his own.

This is normally subtext on the show. But on the episode Pickle Rick, it wasn’t. At the end of the episode, after twenty minutes of wacky antics and rat-murder, a minor character, a therapist, outright calls him on all of his bullshit.

Rick, the only connection between your unquestionable intelligence and the sickness destroying your family is that everyone in your family, you included, use intelligence to justify sickness. You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force, and as an inescapable curse. And I think it's because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it's your mind within your control. You chose to come here. You chose to talk, to belittle my vocation, just as you chose to become a pickle. You are the master of your own universe. And yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces. Your enormous mind literally vegetating by your own hand. I have no doubt you would be bored senseless by therapy. The same way i’m bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is: it's not an adventure. There’s no way to do it so wrong you might die. It’s just work. And the bottom line is: some people are okay going to work and some people... well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose. 

This is the first real call-out the show’s done on Rick’s bullshit. Not just that he’s self-destructive, but that it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a genius. It’s an excuse. He’s self-destructive because he refuses to do the emotional work of improving himself. Because he refuses to face up to his real problems and deal with them. It’s not even that he’s powerless, it’s that he has the power to face his problems, and refuses to do the real work needed to solve them. It’s a great moment on the show.

The comic does not do so well.

Most of the comic is disappointing, but in more pedestrian ways. They cut away all of the cool fight in the sewer, they bring in Snuffles/Snowball and the other dogs into the compound, and Rick turns Jaguar into a banana. It’s a much more boring than the original episode, and more concerned with wanking off to references to other episodes, but it could be worse.

But it completely omits Dr. Wong’s monologue. There isn’t even a truncated version. Instead, Rick busts in on the therapy session, diagnoses Summer and Morty’s problems, and then turns everyone into fruit. He comments that Dr. Wong looks like a dick, and Mr. Poopybutthole pops in because the writer hadn’t reminded us in the last five panels that this is a Rick and Morty comic, dammit.

It’s like the writer, Delilah Dawson, couldn’t stand to admit that maybe Rick wasn’t great. That he’s a flawed, shitty character. She couldn’t stand to see someone point out that he’s not some great god of science. She had to cut that out, and slap down the character who dared to speak ill of her favorite character.

It’s the fanboy view of Rick brought into an official story, and the comic is much weaker for it. It’s lost its nuance and become nothing more than a petty, lukewarm power fantasy. 

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: iv

part iii/AO3.

The incredibly stupid (and rather terrifying) situation that Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan has presently found himself in goes like this.

Something feels off about the botched operation the instant he gets off the phone with Neville, and since Wyatt is still technically the official personnel assigned to this case, if he doesn’t want to drop it, he doesn’t have to. He stands there in the middle of the pickup curb at LAX, being jostled to every side by passing travelers, until he decides he should, if nothing else, get out of the way. Heads back to his car, stares through the windshield for a long moment, then takes out his phone again. Sorry babe, he texts Jessica. Order some pizza and invite some friends. Don’t think I’m making it home tonight.

With that, he tosses the phone into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt. Jessica knew when she married a serviceman, especially one in special ops, that it would be a lot of long separations and unexplained absences, and she’s held up admirably thus far, but she has to be wondering when the buck finally stops. So is Wyatt, for that matter. They need this. They love each other a lot, but they’ve become different people during his last three deployments. A relationship can’t survive forever on Skype calls and care packages.

Putting that out of his head for now, Wyatt turns on the engine, pays the exorbitant parking charge, and rolls into downtown L.A. He can’t help wondering if he’s been outsmarted and the mark is going to turn up at the Burberry store now that a potential accomplice has given him the all-clear. But how would a relatively routine drug runner, or even mid-level member of the mob, be privy to the classified details of a Delta Force sting arranged just hours ago? Their counterintelligence is good, but not that good. And while tons of information isn’t exactly par for the course in this job, they usually at least give you a name. Even a fake one.

At that, Wyatt makes a decision. He isn’t hauling all the way back to San Diego tonight, and he’s gonna drop by Bam-Bam’s. Dave Baumgardner, given the nickname for his enthusiasm for certain parts of the job, is on leave, but he lives here. Has a nice bachelor pad in Westwood. His dad is rich, because Bam-Bam definitely does not make enough money to afford it by serving in the army, even in a specialized unit. At least Wyatt can get a second pair of eyes on this, judge if there’s actually a wrench in the spanner, or he’s just being paranoid. Everyone in their line of work knows it happens eventually.

Traffic is a crawl up 405, because aside from all the other reasons for L.A. to have terrible traffic, there’s a Los Angeles Tech Convention and some billionaire bigwig named Connor Mason is the featured attraction. Has all kind of gizmos he’s wheeling out for public display for the first time ever, so this place is Nerd Mecca. In Wyatt’s opinion, it’s bad enough they keep inventing new iPhones every year. Who needs all that?

He sighs, reminds himself not to be quite so curmudgeonly, and makes it to Westwood with only two minor road-rage incidents. Pulls up in front of Bam-Bam’s place, parks, and heads up the walk. Technically the term for what Bam-Bam is on is “paid administrative leave,” because there’s still some question about whether his actions on the Abu Dhabi mission were entirely necessary. This is, also in Wyatt’s opinion, a dog-and-pony show. The U.S. government pays David Baumgardner to kill people, and the legality isn’t something they’re concerned with except when it appears in the press. It does occur to him to wonder if this is a great place to be asking advice, but hell, he’s here now.

A few moments after his knock, Bam-Bam opens the door, holding a sweating Budweiser bottle and looking surprised. “Hey, Logan! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Complicated,” Wyatt says briefly. “You gonna let me into your beer and porn den, or what?”

Bam-Bam smirks, gives him a bro clap on the shoulder, and leads him into the kitchen, where he twists the cap off another cold Bud and hands it over. Wyatt takes a long swig, leaning against the counter, then follows Bam-Bam out to the porch. Here in an airy, comfortable suburban backyard, it feels as if he might definitely be overstating things, but no point chickening out now. As economically as he can, he explains his hunch. The fact that he can’t be sure, but this feels like a setup, and not in the right way. Bam-Bam might be trigger-happy, but he’s a good soldier. Wyatt trusts his instincts.

“Huh,” Baumgardner says, when he finishes. “That is a little weird.”

“Okay, so it isn’t just me?”

“No, that does sound off the ranch. Not even this guy’s name or who he’s supposed to be working for – ‘Ndrangheta, Yakuza, plain old Mafia, Big Pimpin’ dealing weed down in Compton?” Bam-Bam takes another slug of beer. “Who’d you piss off?”

“Nobody,” Wyatt says. “Far as I know. This all came out of nowhere. Yesterday I thought I was finally going to have a real weekend with Jess, today I’m here with… this.”

“Just send her a dick pic.” Bam-Bam finishes off the Budweiser and chucks it expertly across the lawn into the recycling. “Tide her over?”

Wyatt gives him a cold fish stare, as he doesn’t think that any woman, not even his wife, just magically needs his genitals to appear in their life. “Good thing I don’t ask you for romantic advice, you dog.”

“Whatever.” Bam-Bam shrugs. “Anyway, what are you planning to do about this?”

That catches Wyatt short. He doesn’t actually know. Critical thinking is a valued skill for a solo operative, but independent thinking, less so. A soldier follows orders, he doesn’t start yanking at threads and veering off on tangents and trying to rewrite the script, thinks he knows better than the brass and can do whatever he wants. Finally he says, “Should we call someone?” You never know. Pestering the boss could do something.

“Guess you could try? I’d call my dad, actually, but he’s at some retreat up in the Bay Area this weekend.” Bam-Bam’s rich daddy, Rick, is a defense lawyer in Orange County and makes gigabucks shielding even richer assholes from the consequences of their crimes. In other words, if there’s a big bust afoot, he might know something about it, albeit on less official channels. “Leadership development potential, or whatever.”

“Can you call him anyway?”

“Because my Delta Force buddy thinks something smells a little fishy about one of his jobs?” Bam-Bam gives Wyatt a weird look. “This is still classified, remember?”

“You don’t have to tell him it was me. Just put it in general terms.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work. Anything else?”

Wyatt racks his brains, trying to recall the paperwork he skimmed through quickly to get to the operational summary. This is probably a cautionary tale about why you should actually read it. “I think there were initials? Dunno if it corresponded to the guy at all. G.F.? And something about an unauthorized investigation.”

“Shit.” Baumgardner’s eyes widen. “Garcia Flynn?”

“What?” That catches Wyatt off guard. “Who?”

“He works in the NSA. He’s from somewhere in former shithole-Soviet land, he’s been in Eastern Europe for most of that time. I met him a few times, actually. He’s about the one guy who could take me in a shooting contest.” Bam-Bam sounds proud of this, which Wyatt finds worrying – is this the guy they sent him into LAX to take down, solo op, civilians to every side? “Anyway, though, that’s not why I thought of him. My dad was just talking about him earlier. Apparently Flynn’s lost his marbles, and that worries people.”

“Your dad’s work colleagues? Flynn sounds like the exact kind of client they love.”

“You think anyone from Orange County is gonna defend a possible Russian mole?”

“Yeah. Probably have three on the payroll already. Is that what they think he is? A mole? How the hell is that too controversial to tell me?”

“Look, man, I don’t know. This is probably on shaky confidentiality grounds anyway, but you and I are on the same security clearance, so…” Firearms-related or otherwise, David Baumgardner has never been bound too strictly by an exacting observance of the rules. “You wanna stay and play some Halo, or go and do your fucking job?”

“Probably the latter, huh? Not all of us get to sit on our ass and stuff our face right now like you.” Wyatt slugs down the last of his beer and stands up. “Do you have anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”

Bam-Bam considers, frowning. Then he says, “I think my dad knows that tech guy who’s in town for the convention. Connor Mason. If you wanna pull rank and flash a badge at him, pull him off into some back room and scare him, he could be helpful. Not sure, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll get a last-minute ticket to that and haul the keynote speaker off the stage in front of ten thousand hyped-up nerds?” Wyatt looks at the ceiling, then blows out a breath. “Not like I got anything else to try. Thanks, buddy. Hope they let you out of the doghouse soon.”

With a quick hand-shake and bro-hug, he lets himself out, gets back in the car, and drives to the packed convention center, which involves subjecting himself to I-10 at peak evening hours and thus takes approximately eighty-one eons. It takes him several more after that to find a parking space, which is practically in Chavez Ravine, and he heads to the door and asks to speak to the security staff. It takes (more) time, but he finally gets the head honcho, introduces himself quietly as Delta Force, and says there may be a security threat that he needs to speak to Mr. Mason about. Yes, he knows that Mr. Mason is scheduled to give the kickoff speech at 7:00pm, which is nineteen minutes from now. It’s urgent.

The security guys look at each other, but after Wyatt repeats “credible security threat” a few more times, one of them slopes off to get Mason. He arrives fixing his cufflinks and the microphone pinned to his lapel – twelve minutes to go – and clearly angry at the interruption. “They said there was some bloke who wanted to talk to me? Now?”

“That’s me, Mr. Mason.” Wyatt clears his throat, with a significant look at the others ordering them to scuttle off. “This won’t take long.”

“It better not.” Mason is a bald black British guy in a very expensive suit, who has not gotten to the level of success that he has by tolerating fools. “Well?”

Wyatt checks that they’re alone. “Do you know a Garcia Flynn?”

It’s a good thing Mason wasn’t trying to take a drink, otherwise he definitely would have done a spit-take. He takes half a step backwards, as if Wyatt has turned radioactive. “I’m sorry,” he manages, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “Who did you say you were with, again?”

“I didn’t.” Wyatt takes a step of his own, in case Mason tries to bolt. “You’re the one in the hurry. Tell me what I want to know, we can make it quick. Well?”

“You’re… not…?” Mason’s eyes search Wyatt’s face, as if trying to uncover a mask, a sudden reveal. “Is this some attempt to punish me for not attending the…? I’ve told them, many times, that the work is on schedule, and…”

“What work?” Wyatt asks. “On schedule for who? Not attending the what?”

Mason’s eyes flick from side to side again. He scrutinizes Wyatt carefully, then asks all of a sudden, “Scientia potential est?”

“Is that Latin?” Wyatt is more baffled than ever. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So you’re not.” Mason seems to have been checking something. Rather belatedly, he hitches his professional, P.T. Barnum smile back into place. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. …?”

“Smith.” Wyatt is pretty sure Mason is lying out his ass, but he’s not sure how to force him, short of tackling him and dragging him off to a broom closet for the old shock-and-awe routine Bam-Bam recommended – and that is definitely a bad idea. “You really sure you don’t know anything about Garcia Flynn? Really sure?”

“Absolutely.” Mason almost sells it, too. There’s a moment more in which they stare at each other, and then there’s a harried knock on the door.

Mason turns away to open it, and a young African-American man in a MIT sweatshirt sticks his head in, looking frazzled. “Mr. Mason, what the hell? Your cue’s in five minutes!”

“Yes, Rufus, of course. My apologies, I was unavoidably detained by G.I. Joe here.” Mason tweaks his cuffs, stares back at Wyatt, and turns on his heel with a slight, sarcastic flourish, marching out after his – assistant, aide, graduate student, whatever Rufus is. Wyatt has about five seconds to decide if he is in fact going to throw his weight around – he’s not a cop, and if he’s going to hold Mason for questioning, he needs something to, you know, actually question him about. Mason seems like a smarmy dick, but that’s not illegal. But who the crap do he and Rick Baumgardner both know that makes Garcia Flynn a potential problem for them? They’re both rich, successful corporate types. Bam-Bam said that Flynn’s in the NSA. Has he gone black hat, exploiting security loopholes in their servers and threatening to hold their trade secrets for ransom? Sophisticated cybercrime? But then why wouldn’t Mason want him taken down? Or does he, but he doesn’t want to tell Wyatt how he knows him?

Yeah. There’s something really fucking fishy going on here, it’s not just Wyatt’s imagination. As Mason and Rufus vanish down the corridor, he blows out a breath and tries to work out what to do next. He can’t tap Bam-Bam for any actual action, he’s still on leave, and that would land Wyatt’s ass in hot water right next to him. And yet again, the question remains. Action against who? It feels like kickboxing with your own shadow.

Wyatt thanks the security guys, assures them the threat has been dealt with (which is a lie, but he doesn’t know what else to say), then hikes back to his car, pulls out his phone, and scrolls down to the encrypted numbers, the ones you don’t call except on (hopefully) rare occasions. Once it’s been picked up and he’s gone through the various steps of verifying his identity, he is finally transferred to whatever Lovecraftian horror that is the NSA switchboard room, insists he has the proper clearance to three different people (you’d really think the U.S. government would be better at sharing intelligence and coordinating between departments, but nooooope) and finally, finally gets someone to tell him that yes, Garcia Flynn is an agent on active roster. As far as they know, he still is, but he has missed a scheduled check-in and reassignment. That was supposed to take place today. This afternoon, at the Tom Bradley International Terminal in LAX. At the Burberry store. He didn’t show.

At that, Wyatt feels a goose walking over his grave, as the saying goes. What the shit. He was sent to arrest – as far as Flynn’s bosses know – an agent still on his regular assignment, a fellow high-level, elite operative, but why? Someone who has been, apparently, making trouble for Rick Baumgardner and Connor Mason’s chummy corporate buddies? Mason assured Wyatt that the work was on schedule – what work? Did Wyatt just stumble into the middle of an attempt to whistleblow a whistleblower – stop Flynn before he can pull the clothes off whatever emperor he is trying to disrobe? What. The fuck.

It takes Wyatt several more minutes of cajoling, but he finally convinces the NSA lackey that he’ll try to get in contact with Flynn, put him off his guard, and see if there’s anything he can extract about this very, very puzzling situation. The lackey gives him the company phone number that they have on file for Flynn, and Wyatt jots it down on his hand. He thanks the guy, then hangs up.

Wyatt isn’t nearly stupid enough to call a potential hostile on his own government phone, especially since that could lead to him getting tracked. So he starts the car, wearily girds his loins for his – what – fourth go-round with L.A. traffic for the day, and drives off to the kind of totally reputable establishment on Sepulveda Boulevard that sells burner phones that can be bought with cash. By the time he’s done that, it’s getting quite late, and Wyatt is starving, so he makes an In-n-Out run. He scoffs it down, buys a second burger for the road, and sits in the restaurant until he’s pretty sure the traffic will only be mildly exasperating rather than hellmouth terrible. Then he trucks out, gets back in, and drives off to a deserted high school parking lot. According to the dash clock, it is 11:23 pm.

This is probably a horrible idea. The guy could be full-on, off-the-ranch insane. Or – almost more frighteningly – he couldn’t be.

Wyatt checks that the number on his hand hasn’t gotten too smudged, and dials.

Lucy is getting changed into the Walmart pajamas when she hears Flynn having a terse conversation through the door. He’s keeping his voice down, so it’s hard to make it out, but it sounds like it’s important. God, not something else, not now. This has already been the absolute hell of a day, and she just wants it to be over. Please no more.

She combs out her tangled hair and brushes her teeth with the toiletries he also got, which was nice of him. So was the rescue, if that’s what Lucy wants to call it. She had everything under control, or so she would like to think. Told Cahill five minutes, and then… well, then she was somehow changing for an evening party with his serried social set, they were telling her how great she was, and she kept swearing that she was about to make a run for it somehow. And then out of nowhere, dragging her back into the library with its mounted deer head, scaring the life out of her and yet making her never so grateful to see anyone, Flynn. He keeps doing this. Turning up, and saving her. The last several times, from situations he put her in in the first place, but still. And that car with Benjamin Cahill and company, that wasn’t him. That was something else entirely, and Lucy didn’t like it.

She clenches her hands,which briefly seem inclined to tremble, and looks at herself in the mirror. She is a little pale and wan, dark smears of washed-off makeup lingering beneath her eyes, but she still seems like her. She waits until Flynn has finished his conversation, out of her usual polite instinct not to interrupt someone else’s private business, then steps out of the bathroom. “Who was that?”

Flynn jumps, then puts down the phone, which he has been glaring at as if expecting further information, or just because he’s annoyed. “You should probably go to sleep.”

“Maybe.” Lucy folds her arms. “Who was that?”

Flynn considers her, then gets abruptly to his feet, which is a fairly imposing thing for him to do. “You aren’t working for Rittenhouse,” he says, half as a statement and half as a challenge. “Are you? Some play-pretty-and-ignorant act, some very deep cover?”

“I am not working for Rittenhouse!” Lucy bristles. “Didn’t we settle that? Would I have left with you, or just gone to take a shower, instead of – I don’t know, calling someone and tipping them off where we are?”

“I was gone for a good twenty minutes or so,” Flynn points out. “I don’t know that you didn’t call someone.”

“I didn’t. Here, check my phone if you like.” Lucy thrusts it at him. “Besides, if you really thought I might be some kind of deep-cover agent, why did you rescue me?”

Flynn opens his mouth, realizes he doesn’t have an answer, and shakes his head brusquely. He takes her phone and scrolls through it, tosses it down on the bed, and finally says, “That was a Wyatt Logan. Friend of yours?”

“For the last time, no. I have no idea what is going on with any of this!” It’s close to midnight, Lucy’s exhausted, and this day has been, to say the least, a bitch. “Do you have anything else to interrogate me about, or can I go to sleep?”

Flynn briefly looks chastened, mulls another response, and jerks his head at the bed; apparently the Emperor has given permission. Lucy marches over, turns the covers back, and crawls beneath them, determined to put up a brave front but feeling shaky and small. Why, why has her mother kept this from her? Was it for her safety? It must have been for her safety. Realized that Benjamin Cahill was up to his eyeballs in whatever bad news Rittenhouse is, and cut Lucy (and later, Amy) off for their own good. It still hurts, but at least that way, Lucy can make sense of it. When she gets back to Palo Alto, hopefully soon, she’ll call her mom and clear the air, see if there’s anything else Carol needs to tell her. Maybe she can even help Flynn with this hell-bent investigation of his. Must know firsthand how sketchy they are. Maybe put him onto a few leads.

That is Lucy’s rational historian brain at work, the part that wants to cycle the kaleidoscope pieces together and see the big picture, the best outcome. And yet, all she can think of is Henry Wallace, all the times she called him Dad, and he never gave her any reason to think that was anything but the truth. How much did he know? All this time raising another man’s daughter – did he ever resent her? Did he truly just love her that much? Lucy wants beyond anything to see him again, to know. And yet obviously, she can’t. Lucy the historian understands all this, but Lucy the daughter is broken-hearted.

She sniffs, once and then again. Can feel a wetness soaking into the pillow under her cheek, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. There can’t be many worse places to have this breakdown. Not yet, not yet. But another tear escapes, and a third.

Lucy thinks she hears an uncomfortable cough, and isn’t sure if she wants Flynn to notice this or not. She’s not really sure that he’d have anything particularly comforting to say, since his whole attitude about this seems to be “I told you so.” Why the hell did he come after her, then? Track her all the way out to the literal Rittenhouse in the middle of nowhere, but still won’t entirely relinquish his belief that she might be in with them somehow? Ugh. What the hell. This man is beyond frustrating.

Despite herself, Lucy slips into an uneasy haze, seeing as Flynn has apparently decided that the best strategy to deal with this is to sit very still and pretend he’s a tree. Yet again, if she was thinking that he might offer any comfort or …comfort, she’s mistaken. It’s really a good thing that she didn’t actually kiss him that first night.

Satisfying as this may be, it’s still hollow, and since Lucy doesn’t have Amy’s lap to put her head in, she could at least do with some brief moment of human connection or support. But if Flynn’s not offering, she’s not asking, and pulls the covers up tighter. If Rittenhouse comes barging in here during the wee hours, it is decidedly not her fault.

When Lucy opens her eyes again, the light is grey, the room is quiet, and the clock on the bedside table reads 6:43am. Flynn has dozed off on the other bed, still dressed, the same way he slept on her shitty couch back in her apartment, and nobody has been murdered, so there’s that. Lucy still feels like she’s been hit with a hammer, and could probably sleep another six hours at least, but she’s not sure if they’re going to have to pick up and bugger off somewhere else. It’s Sunday, maybe that will help with the traffic. It’ll still be at least two hours back to the Bay Area, though. If that’s where they’re going.

Lucy groans, closes her eyes again, and steals another forty-odd minutes of precious slumber, before she’s woken by the sound of Flynn moving around. She lies still and pretends to be sleeping, until he says gruffly, “Lucy, I know you’re awake.”

Ever the charmer, her knight in shining armor. Lucy sits up slowly. She has not had a ton of time to go to the gym recently, and yesterday was the most workout she had in months; she can feel it down to her toes. “Other people say good morning.”

Flynn’s mouth twitches, as if he’s almost about to smile, until he catches himself. “You should probably get up.”

“Oh? And what have you been doing all night?”

“Thinking.” Flynn pulls off his shirt, wads it up, and tosses it on his unmade bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Lucy was about to shoot back some remark about how she can’t see that going well – if he’s going to prod her, she’s going to prod him – but she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of his torso. Broad shoulders, heavily muscled arms, and several rugged scars – whatever the majority of this man’s career has been spent doing, it is not just annoying nearly-completed PhD students in California hotel rooms. There is a small, puckered, pinkish circle that looks like a bullet wound, and a few others that look like knives. She doesn’t know how old Flynn is – maybe mid-to-late thirties, seven or eight years older than her – but he’s clearly lived a hard life. Unwelcomingly, unnecessarily, her fingers flex, and her breath hitches.

Flynn catches her looking, and his tongue flicks out briefly to touch his lips. “Yes?”

“I thought you were taking a shower,” Lucy says, as coolly as she can. “Or are you still afraid that I’ll call Rittenhouse if you turn your back on me?”

Flynn arches an eyebrow at her. This man does have a remarkably expressive face, even if it mostly is employed for various permutations of smug, sass, smirk, and son of a bitch. “What, were you planning to come in? Only room for one in there, I’m afraid.”

With that, he strides to the bathroom and shuts the door, for all the world as if he just virtuously turned her down from making a move on him – which, obviously, did not actually happen. Lucy rocks back and forth on the bed, fighting an urge to scream, then gets up, gets dressed, and wonders if she can go down to the continental breakfast by herself, or Flynn will come tearing in and terrify some yuppies. Which might be amusing, at least momentarily, but will then result in even more headache and hassle to sort out.

It takes a while, but they finally eat (though Flynn, to judge from his dark looks at the buffet tables, doesn’t think much of Holiday Inn Express’s culinary selections), check out, and head back to the car. Lucy is not enthused to see it. “Are we going home yet?”

“No.” Flynn gestures her to get in, but she doesn’t. “I couldn’t keep you safe there.”

“Who said that was your job? Can’t you call someone? Whoever you work for?” Lucy folds her arms. “Get me a protection detail, so I can go back to my life, even if someone has to babysit me? However this is ordinarily handled?”

Flynn looks frustrated that she isn’t just taking his word and following his orders. Finally he says, “It’s… last night. When Logan called. There’s been some kind of complication. He said he was supposed to arrest me, at LAX. I don’t know what’s been decided on, but first they ordered me to drop the investigation and now Rittenhouse is trying to – ”

“What? Your bosses ordered you to drop it, and you didn’t see fit to share that with me?” As if he was going to share anything. “So what, we’ve been off the grid and against orders for at least the last twenty-four hours? It was one thing to be on the run with you when you were working on some official government business, now you’re off that too, and – what? I’m supposed to just trust you and get in the car?”

“Lucy – ” Flynn looks exasperated, as if he has genuinely never considered how insane he and all his plans sound. She’s gone along with it thus far, because she didn’t really have a choice, but before they head any further away from home, off into whatever planet he lives on, she needs solid answers. “Don’t make this difficult, just – ”

“Oh, me? Me? I’m the one who should not make this difficult?” Lucy catches sight of a nice retiree couple eyeing them from the hotel portico, and waves reassuringly. She might try to run for it right now, but all her books and her computer are still in the car, and it does not seem beneath Flynn to hold them for ransom. “Either we go home, or you explain a hell of a lot more about who this Wyatt Logan person was and what he told you.”

“He – ” Flynn rolls his eyes viciously. “It’s not a conversation for right here. Get in, and I promise – I promise – ” he repeats, seeing her look deeply dubious – “we’ll drive around a bit and I’ll tell you. Yes or no?”

Lucy hesitates, then jerks the car door open and gets in with as much icy dignity as she can muster. Muttering, Flynn does the same, pulls out with only a slight grinding of the gears, and keeps to his end of the bargain in puttering around at 30mph on some residential streets. As he does, he provides her a doubtless still-very-abridged version of what he learned. Wyatt Logan is a soldier of some description, though he didn’t specify his exact branch of service. He was sent by person or person(s) unknown to arrest Flynn at LAX, which is where he was supposed to go instead of staying with Lucy. Given that Flynn’s boss told him to go there, either he didn’t know that the rendezvous had been compromised, or he did. In short, someone highly placed in the U.S. government has ordered Flynn taken off the Rittenhouse investigation, and has gone to the lengths of sending a fellow special-ops guy to apprehend him. In short, Flynn can’t trust anyone back at headquarters, or know who they’re reporting to. That’s why he can’t just call in for backup and let someone else take it from here.

Lucy stares at him. If Flynn isn’t lying about this – and lying isn’t really his way, rather brute-force application of the unvarnished truth with all the subtlety of a speeding freight train – then that, obviously, is worrisome. “Why would he call and warn you?”

Flynn shrugs. “Dumb decency. Some people have it. But he wasn’t told either, he smelled a rat, so he did some digging.”

“How did he find out it was you?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t say.” Flynn flashes a grim smile. “Had to play some of it close to the vest, after all. Said that he asked a few people. I assume someone like him, it wasn’t just the local hot dog vendor. So then. Do you see the problem?”

“You’re not willing to just drop me off back home and…” Lucy has no idea what the ordinary protocol would be, it’s a little outside her area of specialty. She doesn’t want to be kidnapped by Rittenhouse again, obviously, but she also doesn’t want to be joyriding around with a possibly-ex-NSA agent who’s managed to push the envelope too far even for them. “They couldn’t have had some good reason for pulling you off the case?”

Flynn looks at her flatly. “You’ve met who I’m after. Do you think so?”

Lucy hesitates. Yes, Rittenhouse was obviously creepy, there was a Waco-compound vibe to the party, and to have all these powerful, accomplished, wealthy people suddenly swanning out of the woodwork and offering her a dream job clearly came with a major catch. But… political parties and lobbying groups and other business conglomerates might be distasteful or even unethical (shock, horror, politics are dirty) but that still doesn’t make them strictly or flagrantly illegal. “I don’t know. I need more evidence.”

“Need more evidence.” Flynn makes a derisive noise in his throat. “That’s a historian’s answer.”

“I am a historian, in case you forgot. And I need to be back to Stanford by Tuesday, I have a class to teach.”

For a moment, Flynn looks as if he can respect this commitment to professional responsibility, even if he has no intention of honoring it, himself. “Why did you want to be a historian?” he asks instead. It doesn’t sound entirely like pleasant small talk. “Though it’s better than dropping out of college to join a band.”

Lucy flushes. That is the first reference he’s made to the fact that he saved her life seven years ago. But as to his question, she isn’t even sure she remembers consciously choosing. Just that it was implicit in her mind ever since she was a little girl, that she was going to study history and follow in her mother’s footsteps. That time with Jake was the only time she came seriously close to deviating from the plan, and Flynn is the reason she returned to it. Well, indirectly, since if he hadn’t come along, she would have been six feet under for a while now. “I just… always knew that was what I was supposed to do,” she says, after a pause. “My mom was… well, she is very… she just wanted what was best for me. She pushed me a lot, and that time when… when you saved me, that was when I’d decided I was going to tell her that I could live my own life, and not just mimic hers. But when I almost died, it… it seemed like a sign. That it had been a mistake. So I continued.”

“Do you even like it?” Flynn asks. Bewilderingly. “Or is it something else she made you do?”

“Of course I like it.” Lucy stares at him. “Really. If I hated it, I wouldn’t have gotten this far, even for my mother.”

She isn’t altogether certain about that. Just because she’s not sure she could live with her mother’s disappointment, her constant remarks about how Lucy isn’t really doing everything she could be. And she – she does want this, she can’t think of anything else she wants to do with her life, and frankly, if you’d be happy doing anything else apart from getting a PhD in history, you should probably do that. But that’s odd to think about, almost unsettling. If Puff the Tragic Wagon hadn’t gone off the road, and she hadn’t almost died, and Flynn hadn’t saved her, would she have gotten to her mother’s house, told her the plan, and followed through on dropping out of Stanford and running off with Jake? Or would she have wilted at the first sight of her mother’s disapproval, called the whole thing off, and continued as normal anyway? Does she actually have it in her to defy Professor Carol Preston, who red-penned her homework assignments from the age of nine? Who used to open up her laptop and go through her college papers and just delete whatever she thought wasn’t strong enough?

Lucy starts to say something else, then stops. “What about your mom?” she says instead, not sure why she’s inviting more intimacy, but determined to learn something about this man, half guardian angel and half obnoxious, dangerous, stubborn liability. “You said she was American, but you were born in Croatia.”

“She was.” Flynn rolls to a precise halt at a stop sign, then continues. “From Texas. She worked at Lockman Industries in the aeronautics and engineering division. She was in Houston during the moon landing, actually. A very talented woman.”

Lucy glances at him. She’s always up for hearing more about talented women. “What was her name?”

“Maria.” Flynn’s mouth shapes around it as if he hasn’t said it in a while. “Maria Thompkins. She died a few years ago.”

It’s plain that he would rather not keep talking about the subject, and they drive for a few minutes, going nowhere in particular. They make a few loops around the Windsor main drag, until Flynn says, “All right, I’ll take you home. But if anything happens on the way, or when we get there, then – ”

He sounds so grumpy and yet so worried that Lucy can’t help but smile. Impulsively, she reaches out to put a hand on his where it grips the gearshift. “I’ll be fine, Garcia.”

He blinks. His fingers tense under hers, for a moment as if they might turn and take hold. She gets the sense that people don’t often call him by his first name; it’s either Flynn or Agent or something else curt and formal. He’s still looking down at her. The air feels thick. She hasn’t quite let go.

“Lucy.” It sounds half as if he was trying to say something else, and half as if it just spilled out, as if he wanted to taste it. It lilts on his tongue, he looks at her from under his eyelids, and – Lucy doesn’t know what might have been about to happen. And for that matter, doesn’t get a chance to find out.

She’s aware of a flash, a glint, from the car that’s just pulled up next to them at the stoplight. Is aware, in a horrible, too-slow way, of Flynn realizing what it is, and slamming her down. In the next, the entire world has exploded in Lucy’s ears.

Flynn spreads his arms, sacrificing the chance to go for his own gun in order to shield her, and she hears him grunt as he straight-up takes two shots. All she can think about is those scars she saw this morning, how there was at least one bullet wound, and –

At that, Lucy moves. Reaches over, half-climbs into the driver’s seat, and hits the accelerator, trying to steer with one hand and thinking madly that she has to get them to a hospital. She can barely spare a moment to look in the rearview mirror and see if they’re being followed; all her attention is for him. “Garcia?” she says frantically. “Garcia!”

He grimaces, pressing a hand to his side. It wells up red. “Shit.”

“Don’t talk. Don’t talk, all right?” Lucy looks madly from side to side. She can see a sign for an urgent care, but she isn’t sure how well-equipped they are to handle a drive-by shooting. There’s probably a proper hospital in Santa Rosa, but how bad are his wounds? She tries to look, then has to swallow hard and turn away; blood has never been her strong suit. And if they go somewhere that needs ID, if that’s the exact thing they don’t want to do –

“Lucy.” He sounds somewhat squashed; even aside from being shot, their impromptu driving arrangement is making it hard for him to breathe. “There’s… a kit. In the back. Pull over somewhere, I’ll – ”

“You think you’ll fish two bullets out of you by yourself?” Lucy snaps. “We are getting someone to take care of you!”

Flynn opens his mouth, grimaces, and stops. The left shoulder of his shirt is wet red. He looks like he might pass out, and Lucy decides to hell with it. The urgent care it is. She veers them into the parking lot, slams on the brakes, and hauls Flynn out with a considerable effort. Once she has gotten him inside to the very alarmed receptionist, Flynn is just in command of himself to grouch, but someone takes hold of him and he vanishes into the back. Lucy drops into a chair, covered in blood and shaking. What the hell. What the hell.

She doesn’t think she’s going back to Stanford today.

[ramheavenandhell]

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 5: Looks like we'll have to change tactics for this one / I'm not the real bad guy here

AN: Things are going to pick up in this chapter and some puzzle pieces will finally fall in place and confirm what a lot of you readers most likely have already guessed. Warnings: more Morty battles (so it gets violent again), smut in the form of an orgy (five Mortys on one Rick) – yes, you read that right. I'm not kidding you. That's really in this chapter. Might feel a bit non-con, but is more dub-con though.

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 5: Looks like we'll have to change tactics for this one / I'm not the real bad guy here As they walked through the portal, they were greeted by darkness. Not pitch-blackness like in a cave without a source of light. It was more the kind of darkness that you have in the middle of a night that was only illuminated by the moon and the stars in the sky. Just that in this dimension, the stars were on the ground. At least that's what it looked like to Morty as he saw the shimmering lights on the dark-blue soil and grass that emitted a soft glow. It was a breathtaking sight. Sadly, Morty didn't had time to admire it as his Rick was completely unfazed by the wonders of this new dimension and pressed onwards. His eyes were fixated on his Mortytector like so often and he was probably analyzing whatever data the device showed him to determine which the strongest Morty that freely roamed this dimension was and how to get to him the fastest. They continued on for a while until they witnessed an alien trainer fighting against a wild Morty. Presumably the one that Rick had wanted to catch. "Looks like we're too late, Rick. This guy is probably going to catch that Morty now." He told his grandfather. "We'll see." Rick seethed between his teeth, not wanting to believe that he let that one get away. Team C-137 watched the brown blob-like alien send in one Morty after the other and with each defeated boy, Morty C-137's eyes grew wider and his face paler. "What?! That can't be!!" The alien screeched after his last Morty was also defeated. "Hell yes!" Rick cheered. "See, Morty. He's still free for us to catch. And just look at how crazy strong he is. There's no way I'm gonna lose against anyone if I have this guy in my team!" His grandson gulped audibly. Trying to catch this Morty involved fighting against him first and after seeing just how strong his other-dimensional counterpart was first hand, it left him with zero confidence. "C'mon, Mortys! After him!" Rick yelled as he dashed behind the brunet before he could get too far away. Not that he wouldn't be able to find him again with his Mortytector, but why stall when he was right there? Morty whined a little, but obediently followed with the rest of the group behind the excited scientist.

"Well, this just doesn't work out." Rick C-137 mused loudly and crossed his arms over his chest. His entourage of Mortys was behind him and panting as if they just finished a marathon. In a way they did, seeing as they had tried to catch that wild Morty for the last two hours without much success. He just managed to escape every time and didn't let himself get cornered. It was getting quite frustrating to say the least. "Okay, looks like we'll have to change tactics for this one." Rick continued. "But I already have an idea. He's just a Morty, so it really shouldn't be so hard to catch him." "What's that supposed to mean?" His original Morty immediately complained. "What? I'm just stating a fact. He is a Morty. And there's no way that a Morty could ever outsm—outrun me." Rick caught himself on that one. He had almost accidentally said 'outsmart', but that wasn't even something that a Rick should ever be thinking about. There was absolutely no way that a Morty could ever outsmart a Rick especially not the rickest Rick. That thieving Morty fanboy from Mysterious Rick, who had stolen his portal gun, was not counting. That had nothing to do with getting outsmarted!! "We're just going to make a few traps. There's no way that that won't work." The scientist stated confidently. So, they – they being just the Mortys of course – went to build a few simple traps like you would see them in comic books. Leg-hold traps, snares, dug out pits and even the classic rod underneath a box traps were laid out and equipped with bait. Morty eyed the constructions warily and doubted the effectiveness of it all. "Are you really serious about this, Rick? I mean, aren't these traps a bit too obvious?" He asked. "And what's with the bait anyways? There's no way that anyone is going to fall for that." The traps were indeed not hidden very well and the bait were snacks, soda cans and some comic books and porn mags. Obviously none of these things would just lay around somewhere in the wild, so there was no way that anyone would be really dumb enough to fall for that. "Just you wait, Morty. Just you wait." Rick said only as he seated himself behind a bush to wait for the Morty to show up and run straight into one of the sloppy traps. His grandson just sighed and shook his head as he seated himself next to him as the rest of the Mortys also went into hiding, each right next to one of the traps that they had built.

Rick was right – as always. Morty was so ashamed of himself as every single trap was activated and in each one was a captured Morty. It was really embarrassing to think that he could be caught this easily. In such barely hidden traps and with such obvious bait. But it had worked and yet… "Dammit!" Rick cursed. While it was true that there was a Morty in every single one of the traps, none of them were the wild Morty that he had been aiming for. It seemed as if this one wasn't just super strong and crazy fast, but also a little clever. "Looks like we have to change plans again." Rick concluded. "C'mon, Mortys." Morty C-137 jerked away from peeking inside one of the bait porn mags. "Wait, Rick! Aren't you going to release the caught Mortys again?" His complaint was ignored and he was forced to quickly follow the retreating scientist lest he was left behind.

"If nothing else works, we have just have to use brute force." Rick explained. Well, the term "explained" was used very loosely here. Rick's plan was simply to wait for the wild Morty to walk underneath the trees that they were currently sitted on and then just all jump on him at once. No more chasing, no more bating and if everything went as it was planned then even no battling involved. Needless to say that Morty still didn't like this idea even though he should be glad that they could avoid fighting against that crazy strong Morty. Super Morty Fan had obviously loved the idea and Shadow Morty was just rather confused about it than anything else, but they were all in on this. Morty C-137 sighed quietly as his grandfather occasionally checked his Mortytector to ensure that their pray was on its way to them. Luckily, he was just about to pass by. "Get ready, Mortys." Rick whispered loudly and his team readied itself to pounce on their unsuspecting victim any moment now. Not too long after, the Morty in question really wandered completely unaware of what would await him on this path. "NOW!" Rick gave the command and team C-137 jumped simultaneously down. Everyone, minus Rick, pounced on the unsuspecting Morty and nearly squished him under their combined weight. Muffled yells came from the captured boy, but he was unable to get up again or free himself. Rick jumped down last and landed squarely on his grandson's back, ignored the pained yowl that it caused. He fumbled to reach between the mass of pubescent teenage boys (including one girl and one specter) until the wild Morty's head was in range, then pressed the injector to his temple and waited. Only after the positive beeping sound rang through the air, did the Mortys scrambled to get down from their newest addition. The caught Morty's eyes were dazed for a while as was typically for when the manipulator chip overrode the memories and after his vision focused again, he looked at Rick, looking even more lost than he did when the chip was still busy. "Mr. Allen?" The Morty in the black robes reminiscent of a judge asked as he looked very suspiciously at the scientist. "What?" Rick was at a loss. Who was Mr. Allen? Did he have a different name in that boy's dimension. "You know what? Never mind." He gave up wondering about that with a sigh. "Let's just go, Morty." "Go where? And I don't remember giving you permission to call me by my fist name, Mr. Allen." 'Or maybe the chip is broken?' Rick thought now. At least Judge Morty's defiance struck him as a malfunction. "H-hey?" As he was still fixed by the boy's glare, he bent down to his grandson and whispered, "You'd think I should put a second manipulator chip on him? Y'know, just in case…" "I don't think that it's such a good idea, Rick." Morty whispered back. Maybe catching this one wasn't such a good idea. But damn, if this Morty wasn't a badass!

After many discussions, Rick – who was still being mistaken for Rick Allen by Judge Morty…whoever that guy was – managed to lead his group of five Mortys to the next arena. While usually Morty would be rather impressed or frightened by the "gym leaders" that they met, he wasn't really sure what to think of this one. "This Rick looks like a Dragon Ball reference." Morty commented more embarrassed than impressed as he eyed Shibuya Rick. "What-what-what's that, Morty? Don't be such a little bitch about it." His Rick defended their opponent. "I-I mean, it's not like you would know if that Rick isn't actually the equivalent to Vegeta in his dimension or something." Morty looked with big expectant eyes at him. "Is he?" "No." was the flat reply. "He's just a bad cosplayer." "Cut the small talk and let's get to the point, Rick!" Shibuya Rick looked clearly annoyed by the duo chitchatting as they were. "That's actually an idea that I agree with. Let's just dive into the battle. Morty—" C-137 was about to send in his grandson when he was interrupted by his opponent. "If you like that idea, I have an even better one for you." The platinum-blond Rick offered. "How about a battle royal instead of the lame one-on-one?" "Isn't that against the rules?" Morty C-137 spoke up as he looked over their opponents. Next to Shibuya Rick stood (or floated) a Psychokinetic Morty, a Mortysaurus, a Gaseous Morty, a Flaming Morty and a Frozen Morty. Even this guy's Mortys seemed to be a bunch of anime and comic references. "Sounds exciting. I'm all for it." Rick C-137 apparently didn't give a fuck about the rules. He honestly thought that in comparison to his opponent, he was probably way overpowered now anyways. While his original Morty was only really useful in battle when he snapped – or at least when he was really determined about it – his Morticia was really dedicated and quite strong ("for a girl"), the manic Super Fan Morty was also not easily beatable, his Shadow Morty was practically invincible and while he couldn't test his Judge Morty in an actual battle yet, he already knew that this one was super strong, fast and clever. There was no way that he could ever lose. Especially with a bunch like that. "Rick!" Morty C-137 protested that his grandfather was so ready to ignore the rules and just make this battle more dangerous than it needed to be. An all-versus-all? Really now? That meant that they all needed to fight at once. Aside from the fact that there would be no rest for them between the fights, it also would be pure chaos for Rick to give them a proper strategy. He couldn't really issue commands to all of his Mortys at the same time. However, this flaw was something that Rick C-137 readily overlooked at the prospect of crushing the enemy and flaunting with his strong team of Mortys. Besides, the other Rick was right, he had started to grow bored of the old rule-based battle schematics. I mean what it this? Some sort of round-based Fantasy JRPG or something? Shibuya Rick looked delighted that C-137 had so readily agreed to his idea. Of course, he didn't just come up with this simply out of boredom. He had a plan and it would lead him to victory – as always. "Okay, then. Let's battle, Rick. Just don't get my clothes dirty. It takes work to look this good, Rick. I don't need you messing it up." With those words, he ran a hand through his extremely spikey hair, looking every bit the arrogant asshole that he was. C-137 ignored it. "Get ready, Mortys." Both teams of five entered the middle of the arena, staring fiercely at their opponents. Well, team C-137 mostly tried to look fiercely, but in all truth, they looked a little nervous. Each wondered whom they should single out and attack from their opponents, while their counterparts didn't look like they had the same troubles. Something was fishy here… "Well, then Mortys. Get going. You know the drill." Shibuya Rick said and thus started the battle. While team C-137 was still waiting for orders from their Rick who to attack, the opponents didn't wait for anything. They all targeted Super Morty Fan Morty first, who actually looked delighted instead of frightened (as he should be) when they all approached him. The Mortysaurus bit into his arm and held him still as a stinking cloud began to surround the two of them – without a doubt the work of the Gaseous Morty. As if following a signal Mortysaurus let go again – much to the fanboys dismay even if the bite had hurt – and Flaming Morty suddenly set him on fire. The Super Fan screeched in panic and tried to roll around on the ground to put the fire out again, but he didn't get very far with it. The next thing he knew was that he turned into a frozen popsicle – if it was even possible for him to still be aware of that. Without question the handiwork of the Frozen Morty. The finishing move was delivered by the Psychokinetic Morty, who lifted the solid ice block in the air with his mental powers before letting it drop to the ground again. The force of the impact shattered the ice and revealed an unconsciousness Super Morty Fan Morty. The first Morty of Team C-137 was already down and so quickly. "Rick!" Morty C-137 yelled in a panic at seeing how quickly that went down without anyone of them able to prevent that. "Calm down, Morty." Rick instructed from the sidelines while looking like he tried his hardest not to lose his nerves either. "Don't act like an idiot and just fight back!" Team C-137 indeed tried to fight back, but it wasn't going all too well. Morticia screeched as she tried to punch the Flaming Morty and ended up burning her hand. Shadow Morty tried in vain to reach Psychokinetic Morty, but even his many tendrils were constantly being pushed back the psychic's mental powers. Judge Morty just squinted at the Gaseous Morty, clearly at a loss what do to with an opponent that had no solid form. And Morty nursed his hand which had received frostbite from trying to attack Frozen Morty before he squeaked and ran away as he saw the Mortysaurus approaching him with his sharp teeth. It was complete chaos. "It's all about mind over matter. And I think you don't really have what it takes to beat me, Rick." Shibuya Rick mocked as he unnecessarily straightened out his cheetah patterned shirt. Rick C-137 scowled as he saw that his oh-so overpowered team was indeed about to lose. He didn't understand why in the universe this could be happening. Just why was this going so wrong even though he was pretty sure that he should have the upper hand in this battle? His Mortys were clearly the stronger ones so how could that be? He didn't really need to think long as he saw the enemies teaming up again to try and take out his grandson now. The problem was that Shibuya Rick's team was attacking them systematically – they all worked together as if they were one, not even needing any orders or instructions from their Rick. His own team on the other hand was totally uncoordinated and relied on him to give them orders on what to do. Something that was even getting hard for a genius like him to manage with so much stuff going on at once. "Goddammit, Mortys! You need to work together on this one!" Rick yelled over the battlefield. "Quit doing your own shit and look at how the enemy is doing it! You just need to do the same thing!" Sure, maybe it sounded cheap to just copy the enemy's strategy, but it was a working strategy and if it came down to pure strength, they could still come out as the winners even if he was already one Morty short (and not counting the injuries his Mortys had already sustained). Morty C-137 stopped to think for a moment even if he was getting cornered by the enemy. The enemy was singling them out to take them out one after another, all working together on that. Of course, if you were attacked by five opponents at once, you wouldn't be able to stand a chance, no matter how strong you are. So, what they needed to do was break that teamwork apart and work together on taking the enemy out. "I think, I got!" he declared loud enough for his team members to hear. "We need to stop relying on Rick and coordinate our attacks!" Rick C-137 nodded approvingly on the sideline, glad that his grandson wasn't as stupid as he always said he was and that he finally understood. Though while figuring out what to do was a good start, doing it was still a different matter. And this was what would decide over victory or loss. Despite the flash of genius, Frozen Morty was still advancing on C-137 with the intent to freeze him up. "Judge Morty!" he called out in his panic as the other came way too close for comfort. The judiciary abandoned his gaseous enemy and came to the rescue. Instead of using his bare hands as C-137 had tried before him, he struck his enemy with a wooden gavel and hit with dead precision. Frozen Morty tumbled to the side and landed on the ground. C-137, glad that this enemy was out of the way since Judge Morty was going to take care of him now, was now faced with the Mortysaurus, who was also still advancing on him. "Morticia! I could use your help here!" He called for his female counterpart. The girl overlooked their rivalry for this battle and came to his side, so they could take on the dangerous Godzilla-like Morty together. As they fought back against him, Flaming Morty was trying to land an attack on both of them from the air. Fortunately, C-137 saw it coming in time. "Shadow Morty! You take care of this guy!" The specter didn't waste any time and attacked the Firestarter before he could cause any more damage. Luckily, being a phantom made out of shadows made him pretty fire resistant, so he didn't sustain any damaged when he wrapped his dark tendrils around the living flame. Soon the shadowy swirls were able to extinguish the fire and Flaming Morty dropped on the ground – unconscious. The duo meanwhile had also managed to render the Mortysaurus incapacitated and Judge Morty was also done with Frozen Morty by now. The Gaseous Morty looked utterly terrified in the face of the four Mortys who were approaching him now. With a sound that was reminiscent of a fart, he flew over to his Rick and hid behind his back. "What the heck do you think you're doing?! Get back in there you cowardly weakling!" Shibuya Rick's smug expression had been quickly wiped off his face as he suddenly saw one Morty fall after the other and he was legitimately angry now. "Looks like your Fart Morty is clever and knows when to give up." C-137 mocked from his side of the arena now. "Who's talking about giving up? We're not defeated yet." True to his word, Shibuya Rick's Psychokinetic Morty was still standing on the battleground. Being the only one left, naturally he was getting cornered by the four Mortys from team C-137 now. Unfortunately, they had to learn that this Akira reject was not a pushover. Just like Shadow Morty's previous attempts at landing an attack, the other Mortys fared no better. Not one of them came close enough to the opponent to land an attack on him. Psychokinetic Morty used his powers to lift them all up into the air and let them drop on the ground again, just as he had done with Super Morty Fan Morty before. Fortunately, they weren't already as badly wounded as their teammate had been, but it still hurt and pushed the air out of the Mortys' lungs. The only one that had been mostly unaffected by the attack was Shadow Morty, who rose to the sky again. "Shadow Morty, attack him like you did before again." C-137 wheezed as he picked himself up from the ground again. "Why? It didn't work before." Morticia chimed in, not understanding why to repeat something, which had been already a useless attack. "Just trust me on this one." Morty told her and then instructed the specter again. "Try to use as many tendrils as you can and concentrate the attacks on his front." Shadow Morty followed the orders even if he himself was not able to see the point. He vicariously tried to attack the Psychokinetic on the front, but unsurprisingly he blocked every last one of them, keeping the tentacle-like shadow appendages at bay. As she watched the one-sided battle unfold, Morticia slowly seemed to understand her companions plan and she nodded towards Morty and Judge Morty, seeing that they were all on the same page now. Psychokinetic Morty was still fully concentrated on mentally blocking the specters attacks and despite his Rick's (late) warning call, he never knew what hit him as he was suddenly attacked by the other three Mortys from the back. The fight was over quickly after that since he lost his concentration to properly fight back or even defend himself. Shibuya Rick was stumped. He turned around to look for his traitorous Gaseous Morty, but the none-physical boy had already fled the scene, so it was clearly a loss for him now. He grit his teeth as he faced his opponent again. "My Morty's power level must be too low. I need to train more." Was his admittance to his defeat. Without much fuss, he handed over his badge and opened a portal while team C-137 celebrated their victory with cheering and fist bumps. Rick smiled at his Mortys, feeling quite proud of how well they did in this fight – especially his grandson. "That was some good teamwork and some nifty, strategic thinking." He praised. "And now pick up the unconsciousness fanboy and let's leave this shithole dimension." And the fondness was gone again as quickly as it had come…

"…so yeah, Rick D-9 is also out of the question." Morty K-4872 concluded. The Mortys were back to telephone conferencing. "So, we don't have any suspects anymore now, huh?" C-133 spoke up. K-4872 replied again. "I don't think so. What about Storage Rick?" "I've already talked to him. He was the first one that I talked to." C-137 said. "Y-yeah, but wa-wasn't he the o-one that t-told y-you ab-about the other R-Ricks?" A-22β6 asked in his stuttering voice. "I agree. That seems awfully suspicious of him to just draw the attention to other Ricks just so that he's off the hook." C-133 had to agree. "W-well, he said that the Day Care is a safe place and that he had nothing to do with it, but you're right. I guess it's really suspicious that he defended himself like that and then started to point his finger at other Ricks." C-137 realized his mistake. "I'll have to check him out again." A-22β6's voice piped up again. "M-me and my R-Rick will a-a-also cu-come with." "I think that's a good idea. I'll come with my Rick, too, and we'll interrogate him together." C-133 chimed in. "I would like to come also, but I have to investigate a different lead." K-4872 apologized. "It's an information that I got from Rick D-9, but I'm not sure if it has something to do with this. It does concern the owner of the Morty Day Care though." "That's okay. I think we three will be enough for this." C-137 spoke again. "We're currently on the way to the hotel, but I think the Day Care is closed already anyways, so we should go check it out first thing tomorrow morning. When does it open up again?" "Sh-should be a-around 8." "Okay then we meet tomorrow 8 am in front of the Day Care." "Good. See ya guys then." The Mortys then all bid their good-byes and hung up. Morty C-137 felt a little angry with himself that he just let that Storage Rick off the hook so easily. He should have been more suspicious about the fact that he went on the defense so fast and then tried to divert the attention to some of the other Ricks. This Rick was certainly the most suspicious one out of all of them now. "Wow, you seem really engaged in that case." Morticia commented. She had overheard a few of those telephoneconferencings and therefore had also gotten a whiff of this Morty trafficking schemes and that Morty and his friends were trying to find the perpetrator. However, she did find it a bit silly for them to get involved in this. Shouldn't they just let the CPD or the Citadel's militia handle this? Morty C-137 already knew the girl's opinion on this whole thing and her comment made him more angry than necessary at the moment. "Well, how would you feel if you were kidnapped and brought to a strange place where a Rick would just use you sexually against your will?!" All the Mortys just stood stunned into silence. It seemed that C-137 was projecting what had happened to him and therefore took this crime rather personally. Since none of the other Mortys knew about what had happened between him and Mysterious Rick, they had no words to offer in regards to the emotional outburst. Rick took a sip from his flask and only eyed his original Morty, not commenting on the situation. However, he thought that they should just be done with this whole crap fast, so that they could finally start to work out Morty's issue with what had happened. The boy certainly needed it.

Storage Rick sat in the small parlor, smoking and reminiscing about all the stuff that had happened in the last weeks. In a way, it felt all too weird to be true, but it definitely happened and he would be reminded of it each day. This whole thing had started after that one night – the night where that Blue Shirt Morty had come onto him. And from there on everything just went downhill. Things got out of hand and that way too fast. It was just the next night that another Morty came into his room. This wasn't unusual, but unlike the other times that one of the boys would come and ask for cuddles and just sleeping in bed next to him, he asked Storage Rick to have sex with him. After that, it would happen again and again and again. Every night a different Morty would come into his room and wanted to get fucked by him instead of just wanting the simple affections that Rick had always given out at the time as part of his daily routine. He couldn't really explain it and he also found no pattern for why it happened. Sometimes it were Mortys that he had just released from their cryogenic sleep that day and other times it were Mortys that had been around the Day Care for a long time already. He couldn't explain why those horny little bastards suddenly decided to relieve their sexual tension with him. Part of him wondered if that first Morty had just told some of the others about their sex and planted weird ideas in their confused little heads. Still, that didn't sound like a satisfying answer, but then again it wasn't really an answer that he was looking for. He needed a solution. Especially after that one night when things had gotten completely out of control! He remembered still how he had laid in bed, eyes already closed, but still awake as he practically expected his door to open any moment now. And he shouldn't be disappointed because open it did. With an almost inaudible sigh, he blinked his eyes open to check, which of his Mortys had decided to visit him this night. Honestly, he kind of hoped that it would be his favorite – that Blue Shirt Morty – who still came to him about every other night at least. What greeted him instead was something that he really hadn't expected at all. It wasn't just one single Morty that came in and approached his bed – it were five. He tried to make out the intruders in the darkness and could recognize that it was a Reptile Morty, a Business Morty, an Evil Rabbit Morty, a Robot Morty and a Blob Morty. "Hey! What's all this about?" he asked as he sat up. They surely couldn't be here because of the "usual" – whatever the usual actually was at this point. However, completely unfazed the bunch of Mortys crawled on his small bed. "Just relax, Rick." "Yeah, let us handle this." "We just want to make you feel good." They said, as they approached him and his queen-sized bed suddenly felt way too small. Before Storage Rick even had the chance to protest, he was roughly pushed back onto the mattress and the Business Morty – one of the two culprits that pushed him – crawled up his body until he straddled his face, pressing his crotch right against his mouth. All struggle was in vain, as his hands were held by his side by strong furry paws and he couldn't lift his head up with the weight on his face so Rick could only lay back and let things unfold. It didn't even take long for him to get hard as he inhaled the smell of arousal directly from Business Morty's crotch, who moaned and mewled happily as he rubbed his hardening bulge all over his mouth and nose. Any protests that he still tried to make, came out muffled and aroused the boy only more as it caused vibrations against his stiff dick. The other Mortys also weren't just idle. In quick movements, eight hands rid him of all his remaining clothes and started to explore his body. Since he couldn't see what was going on, Rick could only guess, which Morty was doing what to him. He could feel furry paws roaming over his chest, one clawed scaly hand rubbing one of his thighs after prying his legs apart and one cold and metallic hand grasping and stroking his other one. The weirdest sensation was the one on his stomach though. It felt weirdly warm and slimy. Oh, right. The Blob Morty. He gulped a little as he felt the slick sensation move towards his abdomen, slowly closing in on his tall standing and by now fully hard erection. His concentration was ripped away from that as an eager tongue started to lap at one of his nipples. A sharp pinching sensation made him gasp as the Evil Rabbit Morty nipped a little too hard on it, but Rick didn't really mind the pain. Just as the pink tongue lapped apologetically over his aching nub, claws were digging into the skin of his thighs – deep enough to leave scratches, maybe even scars. So caught up in the mix of sensations, he didn't notice when the Blob Morty bent down over him and took his erection inside his mouth – or well, just inside his body – until it already happened. Shit! The feel of that warm gooey substance was enough to drive him nuts! The smell of musk grew even stronger as Business Morty finally freed his throbbing cock from his pants and underwear and shoved it directly in Rick's face. The old man groaned, feeling more turned on by being dominated like this than he would like to admit. Again, he wasn't aware until it was already too late when a metallic "finger" worked its way into his anus, slowly probing deeper. He hissed a little at the sensation. The metal felt smooth though the shape was weird and nothing like a human finger and the lack of lubrication still caused a slight, burning sensation inside him. As if reading his thoughts, Robot Morty said, "Hey, Reptile. Lube me up with your spit." The thought wasn't the most pleasant when Rick pictured the violet spittle of the scaly Morty, but there was little that he could do in his current position and it was probably better than no lube at all. There wasn't much time for thought though as a harsh pinch on his other nipple caused by rodent incisors made him forget everything and cry out a little in surprise. The moment that his mouth was open, Business Morty must have been getting tired of just rubbing his dick all over Rick's face and shoved it inside his mouth. Rick, never one to displease a lover, sucked immediately on the intrusive fleshy pole. Bobbing and moaning around the delicious little cock, he was surprised again when he became aware of another sensation once more. His eyes widened as slicked metal started to slide into his ass and it wasn't only because it felt cold. 'That doesn't feel like his finger…' he pointed out inside his mind as the thicker and longer object slid deeper and deeper inside him. What part of Robot Morty was that? Did he even have a part like that? It was only then that he suddenly understood what the other Mortys had always meant when they talked about Robot Morty playing with his "joystick". Where was the boy even hiding that thing? The "stick" was now poking right into his prostrate and made him moan loudly around the meat in his mouth. He almost missed completely that Blob Morty who had been slurping eagerly at his cock had stopped doing that and shifted around to sit down on him. While the sensation wasn't that extremely different – the sticky goo of his body kind of felt the same no matter where you would stick your dick in – he did notice that it was vaguely different. The sucking motion and the sounds where the slightest bit different and obviously the boy wasn't making gagging sounds anymore, but used his now free mouth to moan like a bitch in heat. Storage Rick felt a little disappointed that he wasn't able to see the pink blob fuck himself on his dick, but oh well. Tough luck. That disappointment didn't really last all that long as he could feel Robot Morty thrusting into him in hard and fast movements, hitting his prostrate every time with an unbelievable precision. The Business Morty was also thrusting into his mouth, forcing Rick to deepthroat him, which he gladly did. In between the actions, he was only dimly aware that one furry paw grabbed his hand and made it wrap around something pulsing and warm. It only registered fully to him when Evil Rabbit Morty started to hump into his hand what that object was and he tried to help by massaging the furry boy's erection. His other hand was soon occupied likewise as Reptile Morty also grabbed for his hand so he would stroke his two stiff members, too. With everything that was happening around (and inside) him, Storage Rick wasn't able to last for very long. With a muffled moan – that sounded more like a scream – he bucked his hips and came. Not a second later, cum shot into his mouth and down his throat as Business Morty also reached his climax. A wetness on his hands, chest and stomach told him that Evil Rabbit and Reptile had also found their release. It was hard to tell with Blob Morty and in the case of Robot Morty, Rick wasn't even sure if he was physically possible of ejaculation. It didn't matter though as the metallic rod pulled out of him. Blob Morty also got off from his now limp dick and Business Morty had also pulled out of his mouth. Rick released a little sigh of relieve as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, it was over. Or, so he thought. Unfortunately, he noticed quickly that the Mortys were only swapping positions with each other and they started to pat and stroke his body all over again to bring him back to hardness. "Oh c'mon. Gimme a break." He groaned. Of course, he couldn't keep up with five horny teenagers. He was just one man! And despite being as fit as he was in his age, he was an old man at that. That fact didn't stop the horny Mortys though… After that night, he knew that he couldn't handle these abandoned Mortys anymore and that something needed to be done whether the higher ups finally made a decision or not. It must have been fate – even though no Rick believes in such a thing – that a solution showed up on his doorstep right the morning after. After he had opened up the Day Care, the Rick Guard had looked over to him and then actually abandoned his post to come over and talk to him. It was the guard that had just arrived for his morning shift and had exchanged the post with the nightshift guard while Storage Rick opened the store. "Hey, you look like shit. Didn't get any sleep last night?" he asked after having noticed the heavy dark bags underneath his eyes. "Yeah. The Mortys kept me awake." Storage Rick explained, carefully leaving out the detail how they had kept him awake. That wasn't anyone's but his and the Mortys' business, so no one needed to know about that. "They're becoming a handful, huh?" The guard commented. "You bet. I mean they always were, but I feel like things are totally getting out of hand recently…" "Need some help to take them off your back?" Guard Rick asked after he looked around and made sure that no one was in hearing range. Storage Rick's eyes narrowed and he knew that he shouldn't, but he asked what the guard had to offer him anyways. Guard Rick only grinned before he proposed to him the offer of his lifetime. Storage Rick knew that what he did was probably not okay. He was violating regulations. He was handing out Mortys to someone other than their owners and that without a specific permission from the higher ups. He let those Mortys be carted off to a brothel. It wasn't right, none of it was, but he still did it anyways. He just kept telling himself that if those Mortys were so eager for a Rick's cock then they would get what they wanted there and he wouldn't have to worry about them anymore. So, any Mortys that still continued to come onto him in the night were fair game to be shipped off. It wasn't like their owners would ever come back to retrieve them anyways. They were abandoned Mortys and no one ever came back for them! Therefore, Storage Rick tried not to feel bad about it. Was trying to tell himself that what he did was the right choice. Heck, they didn't pay him enough to deal with all of this bullshit and this offer wasn't just the perfect solution for his problems, but also earned him something extra. Since he had started with this he couldn't just back out of it anymore, no matter how illegal it was. He probably would have if there weren't constantly Mortys trying to get into his pants because he didn't want to ship off any that were not interested in something like that. He wouldn't condemn innocent Mortys to such a fate. However, for whatever reasons, many of his Mortys seemed to get the appeal and made advances on him so it wasn't like he planned to stop these illegal shipments anytime soon. The only Morty that he didn't dare to send off was the first one, the Blue Shirt Morty. He couldn't really say why, but he just couldn't get rid of him. It was probably too much to say that he was special in anyway because Mortys were never special, but this one had just grown on Storage Rick. The little shit was almost constantly at his side, helping him out around work and after working hours. It was almost as if this was HIS Morty and he kind of liked that and not just because of the great sex that he had with him. This Morty was probably the only one that he could never give away. Maybe not even when his original Rick would ever show up and want to withdraw him again. He took another drag from his cigarette and held his breath. Before he could release the smoke again, a pair of soft lips pressed against his own and two small hands gripped his hair. Rick closed his eyes and the smoke gently wafted out of his nose and between the small gaps of their lips. The Blue Shirt Morty ended the kiss and looked dreamily up at him, licking his lips as if Storage Rick had the most delicious taste ever. "I doubt that my mouth is that tasty while I smoke." Rick commented, his eyes fixated on the pink tongue as it glided over the pretty, rosy lips. He remembered the complaints from some past lovers who weren't smokers and didn't like it when he kissed them after a cig, much less during smoking one. "There's nothing more delicious than the taste of my Daddy." Morty said seductively. Rick drew the boy into his arms, pulling him as tight to his body as possible. "Well then, how about letting daddy take care of you now? Mhm, baby?" he asked huskily. Their lips found each other again.

As promised amongst the Mortys, all three duos – plus the rest of team C-137 – met up in the morning just outside of the Morty Day Care to confront Storage Rick. Rick C-137, C-133 and P-78 didn't look really happy to be there, but obviously their Mortys had found a way to persuade them in joying them today for this initiative. After the last Morty trainer left, the small group approached the counter. Storage Rick only lifted one side of his eyebrow in question, having already noticed the little gathering and wondering what this was about now. Especially since it were three Mortys that lead the group while the Ricks stayed more in the background. "What do you want?" he asked in not exactly a friendly tone. "We have a few questions and this time we want honest answers." Morty C-137 said in what he hoped was an intimidating voice. Storage Rick's face didn't change. "Sure. I've got no reason to lie to you. What is it?" C-133 spoke up now. "We have been checking out all the Ricks that you had suggested might have something to do with the Morty kidnappings and illegal Morty brothel ring and we found out that they're all innocent." "So?" "S-so, you ha-have-haven't proven yo-you're innocence yet." A-22β6 spoke up now. "Excuse me? I've already said that I got nothing to do with this. And it's not like I know anything. I just made some random suggestions because those Ricks were weirdos and suspicious. I'm sorry that the Rick you're looking for was not among them, but it's certainly not me." Storage Rick defended himself. "If you would leave now, I got some working to do here." "Not so fast, Rick!" The first Rick – C-133 – finally spoke up. "It's not really that farfetched to think that you might have something to do with that." "Yeah, you have an entire Day Care full of Mortys. Who says that you're not handing some of those over to those brothels on the side." P-78 added. C-137 also had to comment. "Yeah, can you actually prove that you really got nothing to do with it and know of nothing? Because only someone who wants to hide something starts pointing with fingers at others and you were really quick to do so." A drop of sweat ran down the side of Storage Rick's face and his mouth and unibrow formed a straight line. "What the heck are you talking about? You noticed that we have really strict regulations in here? I can't just hand out Mortys to anyone. If someone wants to withdraw they have to have a ticket and also need to show an id. I mean just think about how much trouble I would get into if a Morty trainer shows up and wants to withdraw a Morty that I gave out to whoever you think I hand them to?" Rick C-137 noticed the other's nervousness and immediately latched onto it like a predator that detected fear in its victim. "Surely not all the Mortys, but I bet you have quite a few around that no one comes picking up anymore." "W-what?" "You can't tell me that Ricks leave their Mortys here and ALL of them come back to retrieve them again. We Ricks are assholes! As soon as a Rick grows bored of this shitty game, he'll just abandon all their caught Mortys because anything else would be just a hassle. So if you try to tell me that it doesn't happen or you don't know anything about that then you're just a liar and a pretty bad one at that!!" "W-well…" Storage Rick had to swallow because his throat felt entirely to dry and he cursed that he was stuttering so badly all of a sudden. He never had that problem before. "Yeah, okay. We have a bunch of abandoned Mortys running around here. I mean, you can clearly see them." The Morty keeper mentioned with his hand inside the Day Care and to the area behind the electrical fence where Mortys were busy with whatever they were doing. "Still, doesn't give you the right to assume that I just sell them out or whatever." "Really? Then what do you with them?" Rick C-137 wasn't about let up. He actually had fun with this verbal fight and trying to corner the other who was clearly trying to hide something. "Surely those Mortys aren't the only abandoned ones. Where is the rest of them?" "The information where we store the Mortys is confidential." The reply shot out of Storage Rick as if he was trained to answer that by his employer – which he probably was. It didn't deter the Rogue Rick. "Say, this is a really small building. I have trouble believing that you can keep all of those stored Mortys here and the ones that no one comes to pick up anymore. You sure you don't hand some of them out to get some space in there?" "Yeah, even if we don't have any proof now, are you sure that we won't stumble over something if we dig around in regards to those Mortys?" Morty C-137 leaned cockily on the counter, feeling confidence from also noting how much his grandfather had cornered the other Rick. Storage Rick looked unnerved at the bratty Morty before he finally seemed to give in. They had fucking cornered him on this one! As if he hadn't already had enough trouble with rumors coursing around because he had messed up one time and handed out a Morty whose Rick actually did come back to retrieve him again. Of course, he had tried to swipe that one under the rug, explaining it away as a misunderstanding. As an error in the computer system or something like that. He had consoled the Rick with some bribe money, which the greedy bastard readily accepted. And after that, he deflected anyone who was questioning the safety of this place because unfortunately, once rumors came to exist on the Citadel, they had a tendency to last. However, if these Ricks and Mortys would get too nosy and snuck around, they really might end up blowing his cover – aside from that, he had no idea if they had good connections to the Citadel HQ and when those bureaucrats would start investigating, he would get into a shit ton of trouble. There was no way that it wouldn't be noticed that Storage Rick had forged some documents and they would see that Mortys weren't actually retrieved, yet missing from the Day Care anyways. While that wouldn't be too fatal to him, he would have some real trouble if they linked him together with that illegal brothel ring. And since these guys seemed to only be interested in those, they might leave him out of this whole bullshit if he just confessed now… Sure, he was going to be in trouble either way now. And that didn't come entirely unexpected. He had a good run, but realistically speaking, this whole thing was bound to blow up eventually. And maybe, if he played nice now, he would get away with a milder punishment. Probably try to make it look like he was only a victim in this, too, or something. Because honestly, he was! "Fine. Maybe I do sell some of those Mortys underneath the table." He finally admitted. "And do you sell them to some brothels, too." Morty C-133 also leaned on the counter now, fixing the other with a hard stare. The Rick sighed in defeat. "It-it's not unlikely that they end up there." "S-so you r-really d-do sell the M-Mortys t-to the brothels?" A-22β6 stuttered accusingly and also leaned a little bit closer. "Hey, it's not like I'm doing it for the money!" Storage Rick was immediately on the defense again. "You-you have no fucking idea what is going on here! The place is fucking overcrowded with abandoned Mortys and neither Morty Inc. nor the Council of Ricks are doing anything about it. And it's not only that! Believe it or not, but the Mortys that I hand over actually want it. They-they're coming on to me and I really don't wanna deal with those horny little asses. So if-if they want Rick cock so badly then what's the harm in sending them to the brothels? I'm just doing everyone a favor like this." The disapproving looks he received from the Mortys and their Ricks in front of him spoke otherwise. Of course, Storage Rick himself knew that what he did was wrong, but he just couldn't feel bad about it anymore. He continued. "You know, I'm not the real bad guy here. Do you wanna know who it is? It's the Ricks! All of the Ricks that decided that they grew bored of the Morty craze and then just dump them here with the false promise of eventually retrieving them again instead of just releasing them into the wild. No, they just leave their Mortys here who are waiting for their stupid Ricks to come back, which let's face it will never ever happen!" It was true! And who was the one who was always left to pick up the shambles of those abandoned and broken Mortys? It was always him – Rick S-124! No, in his opinion he had no reason to feel bad about himself because he was still by miles a better Rick than those who were visiting his Morty Day Care. "Well, it's neither for you nor for us to decide who the bad guy is, so chill out." Rick C-133 was trying to be rational even if it did make him receive disapproving looks from the three Mortys at the counter. "Just tell us about your contacts. We're not really interested in you. We want to know who the big boss behind this entire thing is." Storage Rick quickly glanced over to the tensed up Guard Rick that stood in front of the electrical fence. "Sorry, no can do." "Wait? What?!" Morty C-137 practically jumped at that answer. "You already confessed that you're shipping the Mortys off to the brothel, so why are you trying to hold that information back from us now?" Morty C-133 also couldn't believe what he had heard. "Surely you can't be willing to stick your neck out for them?" The Morty of the Rogue Rick continued still. "If you leave it at that, we will have to hand you over to the authorities who will just get the information out of you somehow. You can't really want that?" "Sorry, but I actually don't have any names or addresses. And even if I did, I won't squeal on anyone. Not my style." Storage Rick said as he slowly distanced himself from the counter and waved a Morty in a blue t-shirt over. "If you'll excuse me now, it's time for my break." "What!? Hey!!" The Mortys protested at the sudden retreat. "Morty, let it be." Rick C-137 said. "What are you saying, Rick?" Morty whirled around to face his grandfather, not believing that he was just giving up like that after they already got a confession out of the other. The Rogue Rick sighed and began to move while shaking his head. "As I said, Morty. Just. Give. It. A. Rest." He emphasized each word, hoping that Morty would catch on. However, the boy was too worked up to get it and angrily followed after his Rick who rounded the corner of the Day Care. The other Ricks and their Mortys wordlessly followed, Morty C-133 and Morty A-22β6 looking slightly confused but much calmer than their interdimensional counterpart did. "I-I-I just can't believe you, Rick!" the angry brunet bellowed loudly. "Just shut up for a minute, will you?" The scientist said calmly as he leaned against the wall. "What? No! I won't—" his grandson started, but was interrupted by Rick C-133. "Calm down again. If you keep being this obnoxious we will never get the information." "What?" The Morty quietened down as his anger was instantly replaced with confusion. "Well yeah, it would suck if he overheard me ratting him out. Already got my neck way to deep in the noose thanks to you." Morty turned to the source of the voice, only to see Storage Rick coming from the back of the Day Care, taking a drag from his freshly lit cigarette. He was so confused right now. Did that mean that the other was going to tell them now? Rick S-124 leaned against the wall and took another puff. "So, that Guard Rick is your contact person. Is that it?" Rick C-137 asked. The other nodded. "Yeah, I didn't lie when I said that I have no addresses and no names. I really have no direct contact to the brothels. Rick T-42 is the one who pays me and comes to pick up the Mortys. He'll dress up in civil and come pick up a batch this evening again." It was pretty simple actually. The "disguised" Guard Rick would act as if he wanted to make a withdrawal, handing him cash instead of the tickets in exchange. Then he would leave with his happy band of five Mortys as if he was just another trainer, pretending to go adventuring with them when in truth he carted them off to the brothels, however he continued to do that. Rick S-124 didn't really know anything further than that. Not that he actually needed to know. "So basically, someone of us just needs to stick around this evening and then follow him to wherever he brings those Mortys." C-133 concluded simply. "Exactly." Storage Rick breathed out with some smoke. "Are you really sure that he'll still come after you just confessed to us?" "Don't worry about that. I'll talk to him later and make sure that he will." "Well, guess that's that. Good job. C'mon, Morty." C-137 said as he was about to take his leave. "Not so fast, Rick." His grandson halted the other. "We still have to discuss who's going to stay behind and spy after the guy." "It's not going to be us 'cause we have stuff to do and places to be at." "I'm serious, Rick!" "So am I, Morty." "No, Rick. You-you're not taking this very seriously, Rick. Doesn't this whole sex trafficking thing that these Ricks have going on with Mortys bother you at all?" Morty stared accusingly at his grandfather. Now the scientist looked offended. "What kind of question is that? Of course, it does bother me. I mean, this whole thing is just really fucked up. You Mortys are still minors and on top of it, you're our grandsons and incest is just gross! Aside from that, I don't really get why they would run after Mortys. I mean, we're all Rick Sanchez, we can bed anyone that we want, so why chase after a stupid, pubescent teenager?" "Excuse me?!" his Morty asked back, a frown on his face. He was clearly offended by what his grandfather just said by making it sound like there was nothing desirable about a Morty. Sure, he didn't get lucky with Jessica or many other girls, but he also got to make out with a few pretty ones. "Well, I'm sorry, Morty, that you feel offended about that. You know, other kids would be happy if their grandpa told them that he has no desire to fuck them. Didn't know that you would have a problem with that. Is there anything you wanna tell me?" "What?! No, Rick! Is-it's just—you didn't need to phrase it like that, you know?" "What? I was stating facts. Honestly, I can't see the appeal." "Well, Mortys are said to be a pretty good lay, actually." P-78 butted in from the sideline. "They're also pretty good at giving head – supposedly naturals at it." Then he lifted his hands in a defensive motion, "It's not l-like I would know, it's just what I heard from other Ricks who're into that sort of thing." "Well, yeah. That's still no excuse to fuck your own grandson." C-137 replied back, remembering that the part about giving head was indeed true according to his own experience with that Rick Fan Morty. "I get you, man. I'm not into it either. Just saying." P-78 defended himself and couldn't help but glance at his own Morty, who gave him a look that he couldn't read. "Mortys are made for Ricks." Rick S-124 suddenly joined in on their conversation. He had already lit a second cig – or was that his third? "They're a perfect match to us—fucking compatible to us in every way, even to our sexual needs. The marriage between a Rick and Morty would be the only one that could actually work out and that was even admitted by Ricks who have already had more than one failed marriage behind them. Not that I would know since I've never been married to begin with." "Ah, just shut up about it, will you! This talk is going to make me vomit all over this shitty place." C-137 retorted angrily. "C'mon, Morty. Let's go. We still got stuff to do." Morty and the rest of the team began to trail behind their leader as they left. "We talk over the phone again." He shouted towards Morty C-133 and A-22β6, knowing that his grandfather wasn't willing to wait up for him any longer. They made their way silently towards the portal in the middle of the square. Before they arrived there, Morty spoke up again, albeit much quieter this time. "Do you actually think that it could be true, Rick? I mean about the match and marriage thing?" "Are you actually a Morty that hasn't been fucked by his Rick yet?" Mysterious Rick's words rang in his head again. "No need to look so surprised. Ricks and Mortys fucking with each other is actually a pretty common thing." 'Is it really such a common thing? Is it normal for Ricks and Mortys to fuck with each other? Is that as natural as a Rick usually having a Morty? Are we the odd ones out for not doing it…?' "Morty, let's stop talking about it! It's just disgusting!" "Yeah, I know…but do you think that there could be really a Rick and a Morty who could be a happily married couple? It's just so hard to imagine…" The brunet trailed off at the end of the sentence and looked like he tried very hard to picture it. 'Actually it's not that hard to imagine now that I know that it's probably a thing…' Rick abruptly halted, turned around and got down on one knee while grabbing Morty's shoulders. "Listen up, Morty. Ricks will make up whatever kind of bullshit they need as a fucking reason to excuse themselves away. So don't you worry your stupid little Morty head about the crap that you just heard. The Ricks who say that kind of shit just try to make that up as an excuse to be openly sick fucks. I mean, I'm pretty sick, too, not gonna lie about that, but not like this! You got that, Morty?" Morty nodded and it was a good enough response for Rick to let go of his grandson and continue on his way again.

AN: Okay, I have to admit that I was thinking really long and hard about who should be the last and fifth Morty on Rick's team. I was contemplating even giving him the One True Morty, but in the end, my decision fell on Judge Morty because for one, he's super cool (you need to watch the animation if you haven't yet) and secondly, he was the first really strong Morty that I got on my team when I was playing Pocket Mortys for the first time. He was really way stronger than anyone else in my team, so sorry for putting him on such a high pedestal here, but it's just my way of honoring him in good memory. And phew, 10k long chapter, but we're finally getting to the good parts – and the finale is right around the corner. So stay tuned for the last chapter next week! (And yes, I do feel bad for making Storage Rick turn from a decent to a bad guy. He's my favorite Rick and I never intended for that to happen when I wrote "Ricking the Routine"…)

Part 11 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 7 of Entricked Fates: Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1

Chapter 2